


Complete

by Snow0404



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Everyone lives, M/M, Secrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-03-09 10:18:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 25,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13479420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snow0404/pseuds/Snow0404
Summary: Bilbo was happy where he was; living with his young nephew in Bagend with more money than he could ever need. Soon, he receives a letter telling that the King under the mountain has fallen ill. Bilbo sets out to return to the mountain he wished he could have called his home, his nephew in tow. Nothing is ever as it seems and not all who wonder are lost.





	1. Chapter 1

“Frodo? Frodo, come here my boy!”

A thatch of curly black hair appeared amongst the greenery and bounded towards the gate. He skidded to a stop, his bare feet kicking up mud.

“Uncle Bilbo! Look at what I found,” he said proudly holding out his cupped chubby hands. 

Bilbo bent down, his face twisted in fascination, “Why look at our green legged friend, here. And where did you find him?” 

Frodo spun and pointed down by the marshy weeds. “Down there in the water. I had to jump to catch him, but I did it.” His chest puffed in pride as he held his prize aloft. 

Bilbo laughed and glanced his nephew up and down, “I can see that by the mud spattering your shorts.”

The young fauntling had the decency to look abashed. He shuffled his feet a bit, looking down and clutching his new friend to his chest. Bilbo just shook his head.

“What say you let your green friend get back to the pond and go change for supper.”

Frodo’s face lit up happily, for his stomach had growled not moments ago. He turned and bent in the tall grass, he let the frog go gently. It croaked happily to be reunited with the ground and bounded away. Frodo waved and rushed into the house without a second thought. 

Bilbo remained in the sun for a moment longer. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply the sound of the swaying leaves and the hushed rush of the tall grass blowing. He smelled the flowers and felt the earth beneath him. Still, a frown pulled at him. 

As he did so, the mail man appeared before Bilbo’s gate. 

He was a kind, patient, older hobbit, more of the kinder less judgmental. He’d watched Bilbo Baggins grow and become a fine hobbit, even if he was more of a Took than a Baggins. But that was alright by him anyhow. 

He leaned over the gate, holding a letter aloft. 

“For you Mr. Baggins.”

Bilbo took it and thanked him heartily. Once alone he stared at the soft parchment critically. 

Frodo emerged from the house curiously wondering where his Uncle was and why it was taking him so long. He stopped when he realized his Uncle did not seem happy. There was a dark crease to his brow and a small frown tugged at the corner of his lips as he read the letter. Frodo was hesitant to interrupt his Uncle, but his stomach growled, pushing him to action. 

“Uncle Bilbo? Is everything ok?” 

Bilbo said nothing for a moment, then the cloud lifted, and he smiled at his nephew. He folded the parchment and tucked it into his pocket. 

“Come Frodo, let’s go get you something to eat,” he said and went inside, followed by a happy hobbit. 

They sat down together and Frodo soon forgot the letter and his Uncle’s troubled face in favor of regaling his latest adventure with Samwise.


	2. Chapter 2

That very same day, Frodo came upon his Uncle stuffing cloths and other necessities into a pack. With a flash of worry, Frodo ran up to him. 

“Are you leaving?” He demanded. 

“Yes,” Bilbo answered calmly, “But, so are you.”

That seemed to stop the young hobbit in his tracks. He looked down and noticed that a smaller pack was already full. He glanced at it, then back to his Uncle. 

“I don’t understand.”

Bilbo stopped his movements and turned to his nephew. “Do you remember the letter I received earlier this morning?” 

Frodo nodded slowly.

“Well, it was from my friends, the dwarves.”

“The Dwarves!” Frodo shrieked excitedly. 

“Hush,” Bilbo said waving his hands, biting down a smile. “Yes, from the dwarves. More specifically, Prince Fili.” He took out the letter and handed it to his nephew. 

Slowly the young hobbit began to read it and his happiness and excitement settled like lead in his gut. “This-This says the king is very sick,” he whispered. He looked up at his Uncle in confusion expecting to see him frantic and worried or even upset. If anything, Bilbo looked unperturbed and continued to pack relatively at his leisure. Frodo looked back at the letter and examined it again, looking for the answers. He noticed something else. 

“Uncle Bilbo, you said that Prince Kili sent this letter, but it’s signed by Balin.”

Bilbo smiled with pride down at his nephew, “Well done, Frodo my boy. This is true, but it was most certainly written by Kili.”

“But-But why would he lie?”

“The whole letter is a lie,” Bilbo answered rather matter of fact. 

Frodo blinked, trying to process what he was hearing. “What?”

“The letter was made up by Prince Kili, most likely to get me to actually go to the mountain. They’ve been trying for several years to get me to go back. I think it’s time I actually did,” he said, his eyes going to the ceiling in thought. 

“Really?” Frodo asked, more confused than ever. “Why didn’t you want to go back?”

“Oh, multiple reasons,” he said absently turning back to packing. “You came under my care, and then I kept putting off until I thought you were ready. But even before then, I suppose I was afraid.”

“Afraid?” Frodo wondered how his brave adventurer Uncle could ever be afraid. 

“Yes. Afraid of what the King under the mountain would do once he saw me again.” 

“Why?”

“Well, as you know, the last time he was coherent enough to recognize me, he almost threw me off the ramparts. Though, I hesitate to call that whole dragon-sickness business coherent. I left when I knew his life was no longer in any danger and I never returned,” he stopped himself and shook his head, almost as if to correct a thought. “Until now, I suppose.”

“I can’t believe it,” Frodo whispered, mystified. “So then this was all a trick to get you to come to the mountain?”

“Yes,” he turned away. “And it worked the first time,” he muttered under his breath. He shook his head again and turned back to his nephew. “In any case, take anything you think you may want. Though nothing to heavy, I’m sorry to say we will probably not be returning.” 

Frodo nodded and started down the hall, when he paused and turned. 

“Uncle, how do you know we won’t come back?” 

“I just do,” he said dismissively. 

Frodo just shrugged and took off for his room, far to excited for the coming adventure to notice anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be honest in saying that I update rather inconsistently. So if you are with me, than you are with me for the long haul. All I can promise is that this story will be completed. I know that most of the beginning chapters are short, but they will get longer as I go. In any case, I hope you enjoyed and continue to do so.


	3. Chapter 3

They left in the cover of the night. Though, Frodo was unsure exactly why. His Uncle had said it was because he preferred not to explain himself to the other hobbits. He wasn’t sure if he believed his Uncle, but he was sure he had his reason. 

He’d watched his Uncle scribble down a note and leave it posted to the door, telling of where his gardener could find a much more detailed letter. The whole time he muttered to himself, about this and that. 

Finally, they left, Frodo’s feet dragging under the weight of his pack. He’d stuffed it full of toys and one in particular. A stuffed dragon, Bilbo had made his nephew to protect him from the nightmares, that plagued him in the early days of moving to Bagend. With a little smile Frodo adjust his bag and hurried after his Uncle, who had set off at a brusque pace. 

He stepped with purpose and surety, his walking stick leaving small holes beside him that Frodo would purposely step on. As they reached the edge of the forest path, Frodo felt it would be alright for him to speak again. 

“Uncle Bilbo, where are we going?” 

“To the mountain,” he said absently, glancing this way and that. 

Frodo rolled his eyes, “I know that. But where are we going right now?” 

Bilbo sighed, “We’re going to the prancing pony first, so I can get some information on Gandalf. Then we are going to make our way to Rivendell.”

Frodo was practically vibrating beside him. “We’re going to see the elves,” he whispered, for fear if he spoke louder he would yell the words. 

“Yes lad, and if I have my way; we’re going to see Gandalf as well.”

“Really!” This time he was unable to control his volume. 

Bilbo shot him a scolding look, and the boy looked down; his cheeks coloring. The elder hobbit shook his head and glanced around him again, his eyes narrowing. If Frodo didn’t know any better, he would say his Uncle looked worried. 

“I hope they get my note by tomorrow night,” he murmured to himself. 

Frodo refrained from asking, he knew he wouldn’t get a straight answer from his Uncle. Instead he kept quiet and followed his Uncle as he marched and murmured down the road. 

When they finally reached the Prancing Pony, Bilbo told his young nephew to keep close. Needing no prompting as he was surrounded by big folk, smelly and loud. He hurried after his Uncle as he went up to the bartender. 

“Have you heard anything from Gandalf?” He asked without hesitation. 

“Gandalf?”

“Tall, wizard, grey robes, white beard,” Bilbo explained impatiently. 

“Oh, that Gandalf,” the Bartender said after a moment, “Nope, but he should be coming in soon. It’s almost time for him to check in here anyway. Do you want to leave anything for him?”

Bilbo nodded and slid him a folded parchment, along with a bit of money. “And a room,” Bilbo added.

The whole exchange gave Frodo the oddest feeling, almost like déjà vu. 

“Come on Frodo, don’t dawdle,” Bilbo said. 

Frodo was always fascinated with watching his Uncle. The way he walked, talked, and carried himself was like he was a big person or a prince. His head was always high, and his steps were always sure. He walked in a way that made others want to move for him, instead of the other way around. Humans clearly respected his uncle, and Frodo aspired to be that way one day. 

The bartender had his son, almost as young as Frodo, lead them to their room. Bilbo gave him a bit of money for his trouble. They lay their packs on the ground and slept in their normal cloths, though Frodo could hardly sleep, seeing as he was about to go on his own adventure. 

“Sleep lad, we have a long day tomorrow.”

He tried, but from the tossing and turning it was clear the young hobbit was not going to drift easily. Bilbo finally stood and sat on his nephew’s bed. Quietly and sweetly he began to sing. He did so until he and his nephew drifted off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Frodo was shaken awake just after dawn. It was difficult to rouse the young hobbit, but his Uncle was capable. He struggled out of bed and they gathered the remains of their things. 

“Now, Frodo my boy, I need you to stay here until I come and get you. I’m going to have an adult conversation with the man from last night,” Bilbo said. 

Frodo watched with a pouted face as his Uncle left him alone. 

For a moment, he stewed on the unfairness of it all. Why should he be left behind while his Uncle went and talked to the big folk? He could talk to big folk. His mind made up, he slowly crept his way out of the room on silent hobbit feet and slipped past most of the waiters. There was no one up at this time, seeing as any normal person preferred sleep. He spotted his uncle and the bar tender from the night before talking by the bar. Frodo slowly slunk over, keeping close to the ground. He slid underneath one of the tables nearest to the bar and caught the tail end of the conversation.

“How could you possibly know that before our lookouts?” The big man accused. 

“I’ve a cousin who had just returned home from that direction. He warned me of the hoard heading this way, and straight for Hobbiton. All I ask of you is that you warn everyone,” his Uncle implored. 

The big man seemed less than convinced. “Why don’t you go and warn them then?”

“I want to be as far from there as I can be. I have a small one with me, and I wanted to make sure I was far out of the way,” he answered logically. 

The man hesitated, “Alright, fine. I’ll send word to them. But so help me, if you’re wrong, then I’ll be coming for your hide.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be, but I will be happy if I am,” Bilbo answered wisely. 

Frodo sat for a moment in confusion. What could be coming to Hobbiton that would cause his Uncle to want to warn people? Is that why they were really leaving? 

He noticed with a start that Bilbo was beginning to leave his place at the bar. Frodo quickly scrambled back to the room and closed the door as it had been. He sat down on the bed just as Bilbo opened the door. 

“Hello Uncle Bilbo, how was your talk?” 

The elder hobbit stopped and stared at his nephew. He sighed and waved a hand. “Alright, out with it. How much did you hear?”

Frodo’s flush was even more telling.

“Not much, only the end,” he said, his voice pointed to the floor. 

Bilbo sighed, “Very well. I should’ve known better in any case. I’ll tell you the whole story when you’re older.” 

Frodo frowned, having been told this before. Its what adults say when they didn’t want to tell you something they thought might scare or hurt you. Thankfully, Frodo trusted his Uncle more than anyone and knew better than to question him. Something deep within him told him, he should be afraid of the truth. Finally, he withdrew from his own thoughts and noticed that his Uncle hadn’t risen from his crouch in front of him. Instead, he was staring out the window, his eyes wide and glassy. For a moment, Frodo wondered if his Uncle really was as old as he says. 

Suddenly, Bilbo shook his head and stood. 

“Come Frodo, it is time we left,” his voice was far away, and yet his eyes held a grounded steel that Frodo could not understand. 

Without another question or word, Frodo followed his Uncle out into the Spring sun. 

They journeyed long and hard, Frodo refusing to complain. He walked slightly behind his Uncle through the fields and the forests. He enjoyed sitting by the fires and listening to his Uncle tell stories of their current location, of the dwarves and the wizard.

“Tomorrow, we will reach the place where Fili, Kili, and I discovered the dreaded trolls that tried to eat us all. But of course, it was your clever Uncle that was smart enough to stall for enough time for Gandalf to appear with the sun,” Bilbo said, waving his hands in wide arcs.

Frodo laughed and gasped along with the story. He never tired of hearing it, even as this was his sixth time. There was something heavy hanging over his Uncle that he couldn’t name. He wasn’t quite as enthusiastic as he normally was, and his eyes were heavy. There was something undeniably sad.

When he’d finished with his story, they’d both lapsed into silence. That is, until Frodo gathered the courage to finally ask, “Are you alright Uncle Bilbo?”

For a moment Bilbo’s eyes remained on the fire. He blinked slowly and turned to his nephew, “You know, my boy, sometimes I forget just how clever you really are.” 

Frodo flushed with pride, but he waited patiently for the real answer. Bilbo sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. For some reason, the fire cast the strangest shadow over Bilbo’s face. Each and every wrinkle was prominent and obvious, and Frodo wondered when his Uncle started getting old. 

“I’m afraid my dear boy,” Bilbo began quietly, “I’ve never chosen to go back before. I don’t know what his response will be. Mayhaps, he will be angry, furious even, but he was my friend once and I still believe in that. I would have died for him once upon a time, and even now I think I would.”

Frodo wondered if perhaps, he was not supposed to be witness to such a confession. 

“Do you love him?” Frodo asked. 

“Yes,” Bilbo’s response was immediate. There was no hesitation or even room for question, and Frodo began to question just what love really was. 

“I do love him, very, very, much and it may be my end. He would never hurt you, though,” Bilbo said, facing his nephew. “Even if he were to kill me or throw me in the dungeon, he would see you well taken care of, and that is why I love him.” 

They both sat in the quiet, before it was broken again by Frodo. 

“Uncle Bilbo, I don’t think he will do any of those things. I think he loves you too.”

Bilbo didn’t respond, he only stared into the fire, his brow slowly drifting down. His hand was slowly rubbing his right ring finger. Finally, his stare drifted to his young nephew and he sighed again. 

“Come on Frodo, time to sleep,” he said and gathered his nephew into his sleeping bag. 

Frodo moved without complaint and snuggled under the comfy fluff. His eyes and nose poked out the lip and he watched his Uncles dark figure bend into his hands against the fire.


	5. Chapter 5

True to his word, they arrived at the troll’s statue on the eve of the next day. Arriving in the small nook was odd for Frodo. To finally come to a place that had previously only existed in words was jarring for one so young. To realize that the dangers were real, and his Uncle could very well have died here. It sent a pang of cold shudders through the young hobbit. He curled closer to Bilbo’s side as he began to lay down the framework for a fire. 

Bilbo was oddly quiet as he began to set up the fire, his eyes roaming around the stones and finally landing on the great towering trolls. He watched them for several moments, lost in his own world, when he sighed and turned to Frodo. 

“We won’t be lighting the fire until it is well past midnight, so go grab an apple and eat that. Then, I want you to cover yourself warmly, it’ll be cold tonight,” he said sitting down by the fire’s frame. 

“But why, Uncle Bilbo?” 

“I have my reasons, Frodo,” was all he would say on the matter, despite how Frodo pushed.

Giving up, Frodo gathered the blankets and made himself a little nest. He then went to his pack and grabbed an especially green apple and took a loud bite, all the while staring at his Uncle. Bilbo had been acting strange ever since their conversation from the night before. He’d been distant and quiet, sometimes Frodo would catch him murmuring about things from before. The most obvious example was when they’d come to a cross roads and Bilbo had stood between, rubbing his chin and whispering. Frodo was just close enough to hear. 

“We could go left, but the last time….” He would grow quieter, “They’re just too unpredictable, those monsters. They do something different every time.” 

Even after having an entire day to think on it, the young hobbit had come no closer to interpreting his Uncle’s ramblings. Sometimes he wondered if the other hobbits may have had a point about his Uncle. He would never say Bilbo was crazy, but perhaps a little strange in a way that Frodo understood to be odd even for anyone, even a hobbit. His thoughts trailed off as it grew darker and the moon climbed higher. 

Just as he was drifting off, he was jolted awake by a loud howl. Frodo’s eyes widened, and he squeaked in fear. 

“Hush, lad,” Bilbo whispered. 

Slowly, Bilbo withdrew Sting from its place on its hip. Frodo curled further under the blankets when he saw the ghostly blue glow emanating from the sword. Bilbo’s eyes narrowed, and his frown grew deeper.

Frodo could never honestly say he’d been afraid of his Uncle before, but in that moment, Bilbo never looked scarier. 

Bilbo slowly withdrew Sting completely and sighed deeply through his nose. 

“Stay here,” he whispered to his nephew and he climbed over the rocks and out of sight. 

Frodo had desperately wanted his Uncle to stay with him, but fear had frozen his throat and the air he breathed stuttered. In the absolute quiet and darkness, Frodo lay and began to wonder if the orcs could hear his breathing and heartbeat as loudly as he could. 

Then, there was a rustle off bushes from across the camp. Even Frodo’s breathing stopped as he burrowed deeper into the furs. The only things visible of him were his eyes and curls poking over the top. He prayed silently and hoped it was his Uncle. The rustling continued and grew louder and closer. Fear prevented Frodo from moving and so he waited for his fate. 

Suddenly, there was a small thump to his left, and he emerged just enough to see his Uncle land in front of the high rocks. Bilbo held Sting poised in front of him, the light dim. He stepped forward, his feet creating no sound. Finally, he reached the bush and dove ahead. 

Frodo was not expecting the happy cry his Uncle blurted from the bushes. Curious and a little afraid, he emerged from the nest. Over the top of the bushes he could see the tip of a grey hat, its top bent just so. 

“Gandalf,” the young hobbit exclaimed and jumped up. He flung himself into the wizard’s arms just as he emerged from the bushes. The old man laughed happily and set the young hobbit back on the ground. 

“Now, Gandalf, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” Bilbo scolded. “What were you doing skulking in those bushes.”

“Firstly, I do not skulk,” he sniffed indignantly, “and secondly, I was keeping a lookout for the orcs. I heard them just the same as you and thought you might be nearby. I wanted to make sure you were both safe.” 

Bilbo shook his head and sheathed Sting. “They were already gone by the time I was investigating them. It was not doubt a Warg, though. I know that howl anywhere.” 

Frodo shuddered, and the reality of their journey fell into his stomach. The adventure from the stories always seemed happy and magical, but the dangers were real. They could get hurt or even die. Frodo looked down and sniffed. His lip wobbled, and he smeared his sleeve across his nose to try and hide the tears. 

“Oh, my dear boy,” Gandalf said with concern. 

“Come here,” Bilbo opened his arms and Frodo ran into the safety. He cried into his uncle’s arms until he couldn’t do so any longer. 

Bilbo easily lifted his nephew and returned him to the nest. The young Hobbit curled up underneath the furs. 

“We’ll speak tomorrow, Gandalf,” Bilbo said quietly and he lay down next to Frodo. 

“Of course, my friend,” came Gandalf’s voice just out of Frodo’s view. 

As Frodo’s eyes drooped close, a strange thought occurred to him. 

How had Uncle Bilbo known about the orcs enough not to light a fire? How could he have known when they were coming? 

These questions were lost to sleep and forgotten the next morning.


	6. Chapter 6

The journey had gone so much faster with Gandalf, at least in Frodo’s opinion, and really, his was the only one that mattered. 

Bilbo covered his face in his hands as Gandalf told another story from the older hobbit’s childhood. 

“…And when he returned home, my goodness, I’d never seen Belladonna Took laugh harder. Your Uncle was not much older than you now, but he’d come home covered head to toe in sap. He was sticking to everything including all of the leaves and trees; he looked very much like an Ent.”

Frodo laughed hardily, and the old wizard could not help but join. Even Bilbo, who was embarrassingly hiding his face, smiled into his hand. 

“Yes, yes, I was a very rambunctious child,” Bilbo said with a wave of his hand. 

“Uncle Bilbo, you always complain about what trouble I am, but you were worse than me,” Frodo said with a laugh. 

Bilbo did nothing but grumbled to himself. 

Frodo could not have been happier than he was in that moment. The sun was bright and shinning and the wind was warm and pleasant. He was with his two favorite people, though he did miss Samwise quite a bit. That was a sobering thought. The more he contemplated Hobbiton, the more his stomach sank. 

“Uncle Bilbo,” he said suddenly, interrupting them. 

“Yes?” Bilbo said with a kind smile.

“Do you think everyone back at home are ok?” 

Bilbo’s lack of response was not encouraging, if anything, it unsettled him more. Several moments passed by before anyone said anything, and it wasn’t Bilbo who broke the silence.

“Bilbo, my friend, what is it?” Gandalf whispered quietly, his voice dripping with concern. 

“I can’t say that I know, my boy,” Bilbo said after another long moment. “I’m sure they’re fine though.”

“What a laughable-,” The old Wizard was cut off sharply. 

“Gandalf. We will speak about this later,” his eyes were as stern as his voice as he glanced at Frodo. Gandalf, shocked into silence, simply nodded. They walked in quiet until they reached the open planes. From there they set up camp for the night. 

Frodo watched the two adults converse quietly by the fire. He couldn’t tell what they were saying because he’d been banished to the outside. He could see their faces though, and he didn’t like what he saw. As his Uncle spoke, Gandalf’s face slowly darkened in worry and fear. Finally, Bilbo fell silent and turned away from his old friend. The wizard remained quiet, his brow and lips pursed in thought. 

“How can you know this?” Frodo could hear this clearly, as he’d been creeping ever closer. 

“Don’t ask me that, Gandalf. I just do,” his Uncle answered, strangely.

Gandalf’s eyes left the fire and they turned toward his old friend. He could honestly say, he had noticed a difference in the young hobbit, who wasn’t so young anymore. Ever since their journey to the lonely mountain, he was different. In his manner, the way he walks and talks, but in recent years he was odd, even for Bilbo. Gandalf knew the look in Bilbo’s eyes all too well. They were the eyes of one who had seen far beyond their years. This look was recent, though, and To Gandalf’s knowledge, his hobbit friend had not left the Shire in several years, too busy raising his young nephew. It concerned the old wizard, and he’d implored to the King under the Mountain to visit the Shire. Thorin, however was just as afraid as Bilbo it seemed, for he refused every time. Still, Fili, Kili, and the rest of the company could see the sadness in their King. Their last ditch effort was to lie about a mysterious illness that had befallen the stubborn King. Surely, this would get the Hobbit’s attention. Gandalf was thrilled to get Bilbo’s note left to him at the Prancing Pony. Now that they had met, Bilbo didn’t even ask him how Thorin was. This struck the wizard as odd. He was sure that he would be swamped with questions as soon as they saw one another. Yet, he hadn’t even spoken of it once. 

“I have not heard anything of Thorin’s condition,” Gandalf said suddenly. 

Bilbo made no outward reaction to the news. He simply blinked into the fire, and Gandalf’s concern increased. 

“Bilbo-,” he was getting quite tired of being interrupted. 

“I heard Gandalf. I will find out more when we arrive at the mountain,” Bilbo said distantly. Then, much quieter, “If the King doesn’t throw me from the mountain as soon as I arrive, that is.”

“Bilbo,” Gandalf began, but sighed instead. He knew it was no use talking to either of them, the stubborn fools. Everyone knew they loved each other, everyone but, themselves. 

“How is Thranduil?” Bilbo asked suddenly. 

Gandalf blinked and sat back in surprise to study his friend. 

“The Elven king is well. He has lifted the banishment of his son and I believe that is a boost to him. He is far kinder and more patient now that his only son has returned.”

Bilbo chuckled, “Is that the only reason?”

“Well, there are rumors that Bard the King of Dale has become Thranduil’s consort, but those are just rumors. How did you know about that?” Gandalf eyed his friend suspiciously. 

“Like you said, rumors,” Bilbo smiled wryly. “Even such things spread to the far reaches of the Shire.”

Gandalf wasn’t sure if he believed his friend, and that in and of itself was concerning. He didn’t bother pressing for the truth, he knew he wouldn’t get it. He couldn’t understand why his favorite Hobbit was being so secretive, but he had a feeling everything would be clear when they reached the mountain.


	7. Chapter 7

Their arrival to Rivendell was met with surprise, though it was not unwelcome. Elrond met them at the gate, his arms wide and his smile bright. 

“Welcome, my friends,” his smile widened when he noticed the young hobbit staring up at him. “Who might this be?” 

Bilbo smiled down at his young nephew, but he was frozen in awe. The entirety of the elven realm was filled with light and there was magic everywhere. The air was sweet and clean in a way Frodo had never experienced before. Even as his brain had told him to respond to the Elven king, he was far to mystified by the fact that the story heroes had come to life. He jumped back to himself when Bilbo gave him a gentle nudge to remind him Elrond was still waiting on an answer. 

“I-I’m Frodo Baggins, Sir,” Frodo stuttered, his cheeks reddening.

Elrond was not phased, in fact he seemed rather amused. “Well met young Frodo,” he said with a small bow. 

Frodo squeaked and bowed far lower. 

“My friends, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Bilbo stepped forward, “Lord Elrond, my nephew and I are on our way to the lonely mountain.”

Elrond’s head tilted and his brow raised just slightly, “Oh? Why is that?”

“I received a letter that the king has fallen quite ill. I’ve been asked to return,” he said rather mildly for the dire news. 

Elrond blinked in surprise and frowned, “I was not aware that-,” he noticed Gandalf’s frantic movements behind Bilbo, “That you had been sent for,” he quickly recovered. “I am glad that you were made aware of the King’s condition.” Elrond’s smile was the slightest bit confused and hesitant, but it was genuine nonetheless.   
Bilbo’s brows were raised while his eyes were half lidded. Elrond had the oddest feeling that Bilbo was looking through him. It was an uncomfortable feeling for the normally unreadable and unearthly elf lord. He could not say he enjoyed being looked down upon. 

Before he could question this, Bilbo simply said, “Indeed.”

Elrond cleared his throat and smiled again somewhat unnerved, “In any case, I am glad you stopped here to rest for a time.” 

Bilbo’s judgmental look was gone as well, “Of course my friend. I’ve wanted to return to the elven realm for the longest time and it was as good an opportunity as any.” His voice darkened just the slightest bit, “Unfortunately we cannot stay long, for we are pressed for time. We will be staying for three days at most.” The Hobbit began into the elven domain, when he paused and turned back, “If that is alright of course.”

Elrond, nonplussed, “Of course, my friend.” 

Bilbo nodded and went out of sight followed closely by his young nephew. 

Elrond had never been made to feel inferior, but this Hobbit had come the closest. He cleared his throat and shook his head the smallest bit. Just before Gandalf passed, he grabbed his arm gently. 

“Gandalf, what is wrong with Bilbo? What has happened?” 

Gandalf started in surprise. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Bilbo is acting rather strangely. He is no longer as warm and welcoming as he once was. If anything, he seems as though he has come back from war. There is a faraway look in his eyes that even I do not understand,” Elrond whispered hurriedly. 

“Oh, that,” Gandalf said, and Elrond resisted the urge to roll his eyes in an unelf-like manner. 

“Yes that.”

“Your guess is as good as mine, my friend. Ever since I met up with Bilbo he has been like this; odd and distant. I cannot explain it.”

Elrond frowned in worry, “Could something have happened? In Hobbiton or on the journey here, perhaps?” 

“I’m not sure. I don’t believe so,” Gandalf said with a curious huff. “His nephew seems quite unchanged from when I saw him last.”

Elrond closed his eyes and sighed silently, “What is this business with the King under the mountain? As far as I know, he is not the least bit sick.”

“That was a plan devised by Thorin’s nephews and the rest of the company. Thorin has been destitute ever since Bilbo left those years ago. I was told he never smiles, and never laughs; he only spends his time brooding and being miserable. The company is sick of it, and knew that if they only got Bilbo to return to the mountain, things would change. But of course, the two are extraordinarily stubborn. Thorin fears Bilbo’s wrath for how he acted, and Bilbo fears Thorin’s wrath for betraying him. So of course, the company’s solution was to lie and tell Bilbo that the King was ill and may die. As you can see he came, finally,” Gandalf explained.   
Elrond merely frowned in confusion, “Bilbo does not seem the least bit concerned with the condition of the King under the mountain. In fact, it does not seem like he feels much of anything.”

Gandalf paused, “Yes, I’d noticed that as well and I have no explanation for it. Hobbits are such odd creatures, and yet I had thought I knew Bilbo rather well. It is almost like he is a new person.” 

Elrond looked off into the distance in thought. “Do you think it has to do with the ring?”

Gandalf’s eyes darkened. “The thought had indeed crossed my mind, and I will be watching him closely. I plan to stay with them for the entire journey and reexamine things when we reach the mountain. I want to see how he reacts to seeing Thorin again. I hope I am wrong, but if it must be then it must. We will plan accordingly if it comes to that, and I may have to ask the impossible of him.”

Elrond’s brows disappeared into his hairline, “You do not mean?”

Gandalf turned away, “I pray I am wrong.”


	8. Chapter 8

Frodo had never slept better than he had in an elven bed. He was pulled from rolling around happily in his sheets, when there was a knock on his door. His Uncle entered with a fond smile. 

“Good morning,” Bilbo began to help his nephew into his cloths. “How did you sleep?”

“Never better,” He cried with a little giggle. 

Bilbo smiled as his nephew tugged on his shirt with more force than was necessary. “Are you ready for breakfast?” 

Frodo nodded excitedly; his stomach had yelled at him moments earlier, prompting him to move faster. He finished with the rest of his cloths and hurried out into the bright hall. Bilbo laughed and followed. 

As they entered the dining hall, Elrond and Gandalf were already sitting and were preparing to eat. They each smiled in kind, as the young hobbit hopped up into the chair and began on the food already on the plate. 

“It is good of you to join us,” Gandalf said, his eyes crinkled in a smile.

“Indeed, I’d wondered if you would sleep all day,” Elrond laughed lightly. 

Frodo only paused a moment to smile sheepishly before he began attacking his plate again. 

With the young one distracted, Elrond turned to the elder Hobbit, “Bilbo, where do you plan to go from here.”

Bilbo took a small sip of juice and sighed, “I’d thought about visiting Beorn, and from there to Mirkwood, and after that Dale and then to the Mountain. I was also hoping to speak with Thranduil.” 

“Thranduil?” Elrond frowned. “What for?”

“This and that,” Bilbo said rather dismissively.

The elf and the old Wizard shared a glance enough for an entire conversation.

“While I would say that Thranduil is more… agreeable now than ever; I’m not sure he would welcome the visit,” Elrond said somewhat hesitantly. 

“He will when he hears what I have to say,” Bilbo said into his goblet so only Elrond could hear. Elrond frowned curiously and wondered what Bilbo could possibly know that would catch the attention of the standoffish Elven King. 

He was about to ask when Bilbo changed the subject, “Lord Elrond, have you heard anything odd out of Mordor?”

There was a choking sound from across the table and Elrond nearly dropped his cup. He blinked several times before answering in the most bewildered voice.

“I cannot say I have. Why would you ask, Bilbo?”

“I was just curious,” Bilbo shrugged.

Gandalf didn’t believe it for a second, “Why would you ask such a thing, Bilbo? Why would Mordor be your concern? What do you know?”

Bilbo said nothing, and gave nothing for a long moment. Instead, he stood up and gently tapped at his mouth with his napkin and wiped his hands down his pants. 

“I thank you for breakfast and your time, Lord Elrond. Now, I think I shall go take a walk in the garden,” he said and left the room with an air of finality. 

Neither Elrond or Gandalf could think of anything else to say, so they let him go without another word. They shared another glance that spoke volumes of their concern and confusion. A small voice brought them out of their silent exchange and reminded them that someone else was in the room.

“Gandalf, what’s going on?” Frodo asked quietly. 

Another glance, and Gandalf turned to the young hobbit.

“Nothing my boy,” he answered with confidence. “Your Uncle is just acting strangely; you know how he is.” 

Frodo nodded slowly but seemed unconvinced. It was clear to the elders at the table that the young hobbit was quite worried about his beloved Uncle. Seeing a need to ease him Elrond stood and motioned to two courtiers. 

“Would you also like to take a walk in the garden?” He gestured to the two other elves and they came forward and took the small hobbit’s hand.

Frodo smiled and nodded; and walked out of the room and into the daylight. 

Elrond stood for a moment collecting his thoughts and finally turned to Gandalf. “There is something very strange going on with our hobbit. He is changed since I last saw him. Of course, all things do so, but this is different.”

“Agreed,” Gandalf said, also coming to stand, “but he has been less than forthcoming.” 

Elrond sighed and shook his head, “What is there to do?”

“Nothing by us,” Gandalf grumbled a bit. “I have a strong feeling that all will be clear when we arrive at the mountain. He will be angry at first, that he was tricked, but he will get over it quickly.”

Elrond’s eyes found the young hobbit playing outside. “I hope so Gandalf, I am worried.”


	9. Chapter 9

As Elrond walked his halls, not long after breakfast; he began to wonder if he could get Bilbo to talk with him alone. He decided that he had nothing to lose by trying, so he went out into the bright sunlight of his garden. For a small moment he allowed himself to breath in the air, sweet and warm. With a small sigh, he continued on towards where he could see his stewards watching over the smallest hobbit.

He was playing in one of the many ponds, giggling as the fish nibbled at his fingers. He went straight to the elves. 

“Where is Bilbo?”

The two glanced to one another, their brows furrowed in confusion. The one to his left answered first, “We have not seen him since breakfast, My lord.”

“What? But he said he was going to take a walk in the garden,” Elrond said more to himself than the others in the garden. As if in an after thought he added, “Please continue to watch over the young Hobbit.” 

Without waiting for an answer, he left in search of the elder hobbit. His footsteps just a touch faster than before, something in him felt concern. Any elf he passed by, he asked for the whereabouts of his friend, but none seemed to be able to help. They would either say they hadn’t seen him or had seen him leaving the garden but not which way he went. It was becoming increasingly frustrating for the Elf Lord, simply unable to find a single hobbit. At this point, Elrond was beginning to grow worried, and was about to call for a search part, when he nearly barreled into Bilbo. 

They both stepped back in surprise, but Elrond was faster to recover.

“Bilbo! Where in Rivendell have you been?”

“I was in the Library my Lord. I was told you were looking for me, was there something you needed? Is everything alright?” There was a sense of urgency to his voice that Elrond could not quite place, but it was unsettling nonetheless. 

“Why were you in the Library?” Elrond asked instead. 

“I was looking through some maps in order to plot the best road to take to the Mountain. I was actually hoping that you would look through it?” 

Elrond straightened up a bit, relieved for some reason he could not place. 

“Of course, my friend.” 

Bilbo procured a parchment with beautifully crafted map drawings, and detailed notes. Elrond started in surprise.

“Bilbo, these are all in Sindarin,” he said with a small gasp.

Bilbo’s head tilted as if he was confused. Suddenly, realization lit in his eyes and for a moment, Elrond thought he was angry. It was replaced by a jovial smile and a wave of his hand. 

“Ah yes, I’ve been studying since I returned to Bagend,” he said as if learning a whole language in the span of a few years was nothing to brag about. 

“I-Bilbo the grammar is perfect, and the syntax. It almost seems like you have been speaking Elvish your entire life,” Elrond was not quick to let this go.

“Well in a sense I have,” Bilbo began, “My mother was always insistent that I learn the basics of it. I simply built on that to produce what you see now.”

Elrond was not quite sure, but he felt that explanation inadequate, but he let it drop when Bilbo chose to change the subject. 

“What do you think of the map?”

Elrond returned to the map itself, and he had to admit it was impressive. The road Bilbo wanted to take seemed to be the easiest one. In fact, he seemed to bypass most of the problem areas that Elrond was going to suggest. 

“Bilbo, I must say, I’m quite impressed. It seems as if you thought of everything. I have nothing else to add, but I will say that you must be wary. These are dark times and your questions of Mordor were not without merit. There is something stirring within the mountain.”

Bilbo’s eyes darkened, “So it is as I feared,” he whispered to himself. 

“As you feared?” Elrond asked. 

Bilbo’s face lightened, “I always forget what great hearing elves have. Forgive the mutterings of an old Hobbit,” he said with a laugh.

Elrond frowned and shook his head in confusion. Concerned he placed a gentle hand on the Hobbit’s shoulder, “Bilbo, you are hardly considered old by Hobbit standards. Are you feeling alright?”

An odd, almost angry look cast into Bilbo’s eyes, before they brightened a bit, “I believe it is this whole business with the King Under the Mountain. I am quite concerned for him, you know.”

“Of course, Bilbo,” and Elrond felt extremely guilty for knowing the truth. It was for that reason that he did not press his friend any further. Instead he asked, “When do you plan to leave?”

“Oh, after breakfast tomorrow. I think I’ll allow Frodo to enjoy his time here as much as he can. He’s always been so fascinated with elves, you know. Besides, the rest is good for him,” Bilbo answered almost absently. 

Elrond simply nodded, “I agree. This whole ordeal must be quite difficult for the young boy.”

“He is a strong boy, though. He’ll be fine once we reach the mountain,” His voice was soft, almost like he was trying to reassure himself. 

Elrond frowned and realized that this was the first moment he had heard Bilbo sound anything like unsure. They both lapsed into silence, lost in their own thoughts. Until Bilbo broke the silence with a sigh and a clap of his hands. 

“Well, I think I shall go and join Frodo out in the garden. It is such a lovely day,” he said and began whistling and old elvish tune. 

Elrond watched him go, his heart and mind heavy with indecision. He could not and would not press his friend for acting so strangely. He only could repeat what others had been saying since the hobbits and wizard had reached his fair land. Things would become clear when they reached the mountain. 

When they reached the mountain.


	10. Chapter 10

They left around midday. It was a quick and yet oddly sad affair. Frodo seemed the most affected out of them all. He was putting on the bravest face he could muster, but his lip wobbled nonetheless. Elrond smiled down at the young hobbit, kindly. 

“Do not worry, young one. You will return here one day,” he said with a small pat on Frodo’s head. 

“That’s right my boy,” Bilbo said clasping his nephew’s shoulder.

As Frodo and Bilbo were distracted by looking around at the wonders of the Elvish realm for a little longer; Gandalf leaned in closer to Elrond.   
“I will inform you of the going ons when I can. I’ll keep an eye on our friend and see if anything changes,” he murmured. 

Elrond said nothing but nodded. 

The two hobbits returned their attention to the big folk. 

“Well, I think it is time we headed out,” Bilbo said, slinging his pack over his shoulder. 

Frodo sighed in an oddly world-weary way, and waved to the elves, who all waved back. They began on their way quickly, at the ushering of Bilbo. 

Their journey was far from easy, but Gandalf was beginning to believe that it would be far simpler than he had originally thought. He had been expecting to run into some kind of trouble; orcs, goblins or the like, yet they encountered none. They followed Bilbo’s map exactly, much to his insistence. Gandalf may suggest another route, but he was quickly shut down.

“Uncle Bilbo?” Frodo began one day as they hurried along the hills. 

“Yes, my boy?” Bilbo responded, his nose in his map.

“Are we going to visit Beorn?”

Bilbo stopped and blinked a little. He glanced around himself as if seeing it for the first time. His gaze turned to the sky and then to Gandalf.

“How long have we been traveling?” 

Gandalf paused as well and pursed his lips in thought. “I believe we have been traveling close to a month and a half.”

Bilbo’s eyes narrowed and he returned to the map, muttering in Sindarin. 

“I’m sorry my boy, but we’ll have to pass by Beorn’s. We need to reach Mirkwood by the end of this month and we’ll miss our deadline if we stop.”

“Oh, alright,” Frodo sounded quite disappointed. 

“Bilbo, why do we have to reach Mirkwood so quickly?” Gandalf demanded leaning on his staff just a bit.

“I wish to reach the mountain in an expedient time. I would rather not spend all this time traveling, only to get there and find the King dead.” Bilbo said offhandedly. Then, from just above his map he eyed Gandalf critically, “You don’t seem to be pressed for time considering Thorin is on his deathbed.” 

Gandalf sputtered for a moment, “I was only thinking of the lad.” He excused lamely.

Bilbo simply hummed, and said, “Of course, but you can see why I would want to get back to the mountain as quickly as possible and I don’t plan to be delayed.” With such words of finality, the other two were silenced as they continued on. 

As Bilbo had wanted they continued on in a steady pace, stopping at sundown to make camp, and waking before the dawn and leaving at first light. 

Gandalf could tell that the young Frodo was treading along bravely, but he was only a child. The wizard could tell that he was beginning to wear down. He was glad when the green sea of Mirkwood appeared over the horizon. Bilbo stopped right over the hill and glanced at his map. He wrote something, and mumbled for a moment before he glanced up at the sky. 

“Let’s stop here,” he said suddenly.

Gandalf frowned, “It’s not even noon, Bilbo. Why stop now?”

“Are you tired, my boy?” Bilbo asked Frodo, bending down. 

Frodo said nothing but nodded. Bilbo, vindicated, gave a small, knowing look to Gandalf and began unpacking his things. They settled and built a small fire where they began to make lunch. They sat down, and spent the time singing and telling stories. Gandalf and Bilbo bounced back and forth on each other comfortably. All was done to make Frodo smile, to make him comfortable; and so they were successful. The young hobbit laughed and smiled and sang along. Just as dusk was beginning to darken the sky and color like fire; there came a voice from a ways.

“Hello!” The three companions turned to see a precession coming up from beyond the hill. There was a small group of horses, fine and white. Two were at the head, one with strikingly blond hair, and the other dark.

“King Bard, Prince Legolas,” Gandalf cried in surprise; and so it was. The two pictures of royalty came over the hill with a smaller group of both elves and men. The two came up to them and dismounted. Bard giving a warm smile and Legolas a gentle one.

“My friends! To what do I owe the pleasure? What are you doing outside of Greenwood?” Bard asked, shaking hands with Gandalf and Bilbo; he quickly noticed the starry eyed young one. “And who is this?”

“This is Frodo my Lord, my nephew,” Bilbo said.

“Oh, none of that Lord nonsense,” Bard said shaking his head. “I owe so much to you my hobbit friend.”

Bilbo smiled, “Of course, Bard; and as for your questions. We three are headed to Erebor, I’ve heard tell that the King has grown ill.”

At this, the young elf prince stepped forward, “I have heard nothing of this.”

“You and your father have been keeping tabs on the mountain?” Bilbo asked with a mischievous, knowing smile. 

Legolas colors and Bard hides a smile. It was never easy to make the stoic prince react in such a way, and he was surprised Bilbo was so able.

“No, of course not,” Legolas back tracks a bit, and turns towards their fire. 

Bard shook his head, “Well, my friends. We, ourselves, are on our way to Greenwood. Would you mind if we joined you for the night?”

“Of course not,” Bilbo said motioning to the fire. Bard thanked him and called to his men to dismount and unpack. They began to do so, and the royalty settled around the fire with their friends. 

“How has the journey been?” Bard asked, leaning over the fire.

“It has gone surprisingly well. We’ve yet to encounter any trouble and I don’t expect we shall,” Gandalf said with a puff on his pipe. 

“Really?” Bard said, surprised, “We’ve encountered several groups of orcs traveling the lands. I am glad that you have not encountered the same problem.”

“Where are you coming from?” Bilbo asked.

“The Blue mountains,” Legolas said. “We are beginning to open trade routs from Dale and Greenwood.”

“Did your father ask you to accompany the King?” Bilbo asked with an oddly sly voice. 

Legolas’ eyes widened a fraction, “He did.”

“I see,” Bilbo smiled. “Then the banishment he placed on you was lifted then?”

Legolas swallowed visibly, “Indeed. Yes, father felt that my time was better spent amongst the woodland elves.”

“Rather than the Sindarin,” Bilbo stated more than asked. 

Legolas was somewhat stunned into silence, but it was broken by Bard’s laugh.

“Why yes. You know how King Thranduil is.”

Bilbo smiled slyly again, “Of course we both do.” 

Bard’s laughter died in his throat, and he wondered about the implication of this Hobbit. He blinked a bit surprised, but smiled a little crookedly. The air suddenly seemed to grow thicker and heavier, all emanating from the Hobbit that seemed to know more than he should. There was an awkward silence that was finally broken by the human King.

“So, the King under the mountain is sick?”

“So I have heard,” Bilbo said, somewhat stand-offishly. 

There was another silence, before Legolas spoke, surprising them all. 

“Have you enjoyed your travels, Frodo Baggins?” His voice was soft and not unkind. 

Frodo’s eyes lit up, being addressed by the Elven prince and he bounced a little. 

“Oh yes,” he began, “I’ve seen so many amazing things. All of the things from Uncle Bilbo’s stories are true.”

“Did you not believe me?” Bilbo asked with a fond smile.

Frodo’s cheeks colored. “Of course, I believed you, but it was so amazing to see it for real! I saw the ogres and the Elves in Rivendell. Those things I’d only heard about in stories were right in front of me. I can’t wait to see the mountain.”

“It is truly amazing,” Legolas said, almost to himself.

“Have you been to the mountain?” Bilbo asked, mildly. 

Legolas seemed to pause, “Yes, I have, several times.”

“And do you enjoy it?” For some reason it felt like Bilbo was reaching for something specific without stating it. 

“Enjoyed it? I would not say that I either enjoyed it or did not. It was simply an ambassador’s position, to attempt to come to some sort of agreement between our Kingdoms,” Legolas said somewhat dismissively. 

“And has there been an ambassador from the Erebor?” 

“Yes,” came Legolas’ clipped answer.

“And who was it?” Bilbo insisted.

“I cannot recall his name, but he was from the blue mountains. A rather disagreeable fellow who wanted to argue over the most mundane things.”

“Was his name, perhaps, Gimli?” Bilbo asked with a small coy smile.

Legolas started in surprise, “Why, yes. But how did you know?”

“Well I was having quite the back and forth with his father, whom I was friends with on the journey. He was concerned that his son was becoming lazy and even somewhat to self-assured, perhaps. So, I recommended they send him to be an ambassador to the elves. It would teach him a thing or two about being humble; you know your father’s sharp tongue,” Bilbo answered with an amused wave if his hand. 

“Yes, father has been particularly harsh on this dwarf, Gimli. He is young and impetuous, to be certain.”

“Indeed, but the real question is, can you become friends?”

Legolas, once again looked taken aback by the question. “I…am not sure. He is impatient and brash, and he does not hesitate to speak his mind. Which I suppose is admirable, especially when speaking to my father. Perhaps given time…” he trailed away in thought. 

“Indeed, I’m sure you will make it work,” Bilbo said with a soft smile. 

Everyone listening found the exchange to be odd, almost like there was something missing, but Bilbo was hardly forthcoming. Each sat in their own silence and thoughts, contemplating the conversation. Until it was broken once again by Bilbo, who turned to Bard.

“And how are your children?”

Bard started from his thoughts, but smiled. “They are all doing very well, thank you. Growing and changing before my very eyes. I can hardly believe how big Hilda has gotten. They are all becoming adults before me and I almost wish they would stay young forever.”

“Ah yes,” there was a warmth to Bilbo’s eyes, “Indeed, watching one’s children outgrow you can be difficult; but remember they will grow and learn from you and be even more than you hoped.”

“Wise words, Master Baggins,” Gandalf said with a puff of his pipe. 

The elder hobbit simply hummed. 

“Would the two of you mind it, if we joined you on your way to Greenwood?” Bilbo asked instead. 

“No of course not, but may I ask what business you have?” Legolas asked.

“Oh, I need to speak to your father, nothing important really; but I think he would appreciate knowing.” Bilbo responded. 

“Knowing what?”

Bilbo smiled, “That is between me and Thranduil.”


	11. Chapter 11

They began together at dawn. There was very little said between the lot of them, beyond the orders made by the royalty. 

The elven prince was still pondering what the hobbit had said the previous night. He wondered what Bilbo could possibly have to talk about with his father. At first, he was concerned, but the hobbit hardly seemed so. 

Bard was lost in the thoughts of his children, currently in the care of his eldest daughter and his most trusted friend; not that they would need such care for much longer. Bilbo had been right, his children were growing, all he can do is watch. His son was going to make a far better ruler than he, having had training. King Bard began to wonder if he could retire soon and allow his son to take over the throne. The thought of retiring to the woods, living within the reach of his children, should they need him; and his lover. 

“You look lost in thought,” A voice towards his hip said.

The King looked down into the green eyes of the older hobbit. For some reason he felt like a child being looked over by their elder. The eyes held deep wisdom, but also deep sadness. 

“I was only thinking of perhaps retiring in a few more years,” He said mildly, while packing his horse.

Bilbo nodded slowly, “It sounds lovely. Have you spoken to Thranduil?”

Bard started a bit and glanced down at the hobbit, whose eyes were ahead. “Why would I speak to the elven king about such a thing?”

The hobbit looked up without lifting his head. His mouth twisted up just the slightest bit. “Why indeed?”

The King sputtered a bit and reddened as Bilbo laughed. 

“Don’t worry, Bard, your secret is safe with me. Love is love, as I know. I am glad that you have found someone to spend your life with. Perhaps, in another life, I could have had that too,” Bilbo’s voice was soft. 

“My dear friend,” Bard began, but he didn’t know what to say. He looked down at the hobbit, who’s eyes were trained ahead at the younger hobbit walking alongside the elven prince, asking questions. 

“Youth is waisted on the young,” Bilbo whispered so quietly Bard had to strain to hear it. The King did nothing but silently agree. They walked along side by side in quiet as they finally entered the woods. 

They were still dark and mysterious, and Bard could not imagine trying to navigate them without the aid of elves. Thankfully, Legolas was at the front, leading them all. Bard smiled fondly when he saw the elven prince take the hand of the young hobbit and keep him from falling. Even if Legolas was centuries older than Bard, the King still saw him as young. Age and maturity gave them their differences, but Bard looked on Legolas as somewhat of a son. They would speak to one another of mundane things or go hunting. He even taught the young prince how to carve, much to Thranduil’s surprise. Bard recalled with a fond smile; the look on his lover’s face when he’d told him Legolas and he were getting along quite well. In fact, there seemed to be a pleased air around the elven King for a long time after. It had never occurred to Bard that Legolas’ approval of him was important to his father. He liked to think he won that. 

They were at the door step of the Elven kingdom within the next couple of hours. The doors were opened to them and Bard still felt the same amazement upon entering as the first time. Lights and music danced in the air. The sound of rushing water and the smell of the earth permeated everything and gave a subtle comfort. 

Two guards came to them, “His majesty wishes to see the guests and welcome them.” 

“How kind of him,” Bilbo said dryly. 

Bard hid his smile and followed along with the guards who led them to the throne room. Bard could not keep his eyes from his lover, even after all these years. 

Thranduil was lounging somewhat, his chin resting on his hand in boredom. He sat up just a fraction as they entered, and his eyes seemed to lighten. 

“Welcome back King Bard, Legolas, who have you brought with you?” His voice was high as he looked down upon them. 

“Pardon our intrusion, My Lord,” Bilbo began with a bow, “My nephew, Gandalf and I are traveling to Erebor and we simply needed a place to stay for a time. We would appreciate this if you would give your kindness.”

Thranduil’s eyes glanced to the human King and he seemed to roll his eyes without doing so, “Of course, you are welcome here.” 

The Hobbit was not done, however, “And if I may, your majesty, I would like to speak with you alone.” 

At this the Elven King’s brow rose in surprise, his eyes flickered to his lover, who shrugged. Thranduil looked down at the hobbit from his place high on his throne. 

“If you feel you must,” He said finally. He turned to his guards, “Please take them to their rooms and prepare to have dinner ready, we shall be dining with guests.” The King turned to his son and lover, “You both will inform me of how the trading went, after my little…meeting.”

Everyone let without another word, bowing, and the Hobbit and elf were alone. For a moment neither said a word, but the king was not without patience and waited for the Hobbit to begin. When he finally did so, Thranduil was surprised by the sheer authority. 

“This is a vital matter of which must remain between us. This cannot be discussed outside of this room, and you must not ask me how I know this information,” He began. 

Thranduil sat forward and waved his hand, “Go on.”


	12. Chapter 12

When Legolas next saw his father, he could no longer honestly say that he was not concerned. He reentered the throne room in order to report, and he was surprised by the expression on the King’s face. 

His brow and eyes were dark, and his entire body was stiff and rigid. Bilbo was standing before him, but turned as he entered. He looked the prince up and down, eyes blank. He turned back to the King and in a voice Legolas had never heard he spoke, “Think on what I have said.”

Thranduil said nothing, but his grip on the arm of his throne did tighten. His eyes flickered to his son, who nearly stepped back. There was a dark, smoldering fire in his father’s eyes that he had never seen before. His father looked afraid and Legolas found it was far from comforting. 

Bilbo said nothing else, but nodded to Legolas on his way out. 

There was an odd moment of heavy silence, where the King simply stared angrily at the floor in thought. 

“My lord?” Legolas began hesitantly. 

Thranduil snorted softly and shook his head, almost as if he was denying something. He eyes fixed upon his son and they lost their edge somewhat. 

“Report.”

Legolas straightened and began his report. He told his father of the journey, their run in with orcs and the fact that practically nothing was accomplished from their journey to the Blue Mountains. He kept his voice even, but he knew from the increasingly deep frown on his father’s face that his report was not improving his mood. 

“I’m disappointed in you Legolas. You have returned home to tell me nothing was accomplished?”

Legolas looked down, “Yes, my Lord. I tried everything to try and speak to the dwarves about trading and coming to an understanding, but it was nearly impossible. They would not listen to-,” he was cut off harshly by his father.

“You are the Prince of Mirkwood, and you could not convince a group of dwarves to swallow their anger and pride and deal with us?”

“Father I-,” he was cut off again.

“Then I suppose you will just have to go back then,” Thranduil said with an air of finality that broke no room for argument. 

Legolas saw he had lost and simply bowed, “Yes my Lord, I will leave at first light.” He stood straight and turned to leave.

“Legolas,” his father’s voice was oddly soft. The prince paused and turned, and for a moment, he thought his father was going to say something profound, instead he said, “Never mind. I expect results when you return.” 

Legolas held in a sigh, his heart painfully heavy. He said nothing but bowed again and left the room as quickly as he could without seeming obvious. He nearly barreled into Bilbo on his way to his room. 

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” The hobbit asked with a worried frown. 

“The King has asked that I return to the Blue Mountains,” the Prince’s voice was low and ashamed. 

Something unfamiliar and strange passed in Bilbo’s eyes, and his mouth pulled back into a sneer. He looked furious, it was an frightening look on the normally gentle and kind hobbit.

“Your father is a fool,” he spat with vitriol. 

Legolas started visibly and took a step back. His mouth agape as his mind tried to come up with a proper response. He thought he could hear himself screaming at himself to defend his father, but he could not comprehend the anger in his friend. For a split second, Bilbo seemed to seethe, his small hands gripped tightly at his side and his breathing coming out in short burts, but it passed quickly when he released a deep breath. He shook his head and returned his attention to the young prince, who was still gaping at him. 

“I’m sorry, my boy, I didn’t mean to be so angry. Your father is a wise man, but he is stubborn.” He surprised the prince by taking his hand and holding it tightly between his, “Please make sure you are careful. Don’t take any unnecessary risks and keep safe. There would be a great deal many people who would be unhappy if you were to be hurt.” 

With that, he let go of his hand and walked away. Legolas could do nothing but watch him pass by with his mouth still agape. He stood that way for several seconds, staring down the empty hall, wondering what just happened. Finally, his brain caught up with him and he blinked rapidly. He shook his head and turned back to go to his room, his brow furrowed. 

What on Middle Earth had just happened?


	13. Chapter 13

The stay at the Mirkwood elven realm was tense. Even the youngest of them could sense it. Frodo slept well, and he was happy with the air and magic of the forest, but the elves were not as kind as the ones in Rivendell. They all seemed sad, distant, and weary. They would speak softly to him, answer his questions quickly and with as few words as possible. Frodo liked talking to the elves, but he felt it was not always welcome. When he asked his Uncle about it, his voice was soft and quiet.

“They are sad,” he began, “Their forest, their home is being taken over by darkness and their King is being stretched thin. Though, I would say Thranduil has been happier, since love, but I feel he knows it won’t last forever.”

Frodo looked down in thought, “Does King Thranduil love Prince Legolas?”

“Yes, he does.” Bilbo turned from his map, “Why do you ask?” 

“Well, when he saw him yesterday, he didn’t hug him or even look at him.”

Bilbo hummed, “The King and the Prince’s relationship is complicated. They love each other, The Prince adores his father, but the King finds it more difficult to show such things. Love is complicated, my boy, and the King sees so much of his wife in his son that it is painful to love him.”

Frodo looked down again, a small frown on his lips, “Love can be painful?”

Bilbo sighed and bit his cheek, finally he said. “Love can be difficult, and painful, and scary, and it can hurt you. Love can also be happy, and brightening, and can give you life. It all depends on how you love. Thranduil loves distantly because he is afraid to be hurt and to lose what he loves. Then, you have men like Bard, who love openly and completely, without fear or hesitation. They go together well because they balance each other, but it takes far too much for one to change. Thranduil has made a mistake, though, that may be drastic enough to change him,” this last bit was said mostly to himself. 

“What do you mean, Uncle Bilbo?” Frodo sat up in concern.

“Nothing to concern yourself with my boy, just the ramblings of an old man.”

“You’re not old,” Frodo insisted. 

“Thank you, my boy,” Bilbo said with a laugh. 

Still Frodo’s mind was taken with concern over what this mistake could be. In his experiences, mistakes led to death and sadness. He hoped it wasn’t so this time around. Realizing he wasn’t going to get anything further out of his Uncle, he decided to change the subject. 

“When are we leaving Uncle Bilbo?”

Bilbo stopped for a moment and tapped his chin in thought, “Most likely tomorrow morning. Bard told me that he would travel with us to Dale, from then on were on our own until we reach Erebor, but I’m not expecting any major problems. Are you excited to see the Misty Mountain?”

Frodo bounced on the bed, “Oh, yes! I’m so excited, I can barely wait! I can’t wait to meet Fili and Kili and King Thorin, and all the others in the company. Are you excited to see them again, Uncle Bilbo?”

An odd, faraway look entered his Uncle’s eye. He glanced down at the map and then sighed heavily and sagged. 

“Of course, my boy,” he said a little airily and turned back to the map. 

Frodo was a clever and observant boy, and it was obvious that his Uncle was lying through his teeth. He could not understand why he wouldn’t be excited to see his friends again. Especially, when he said he loved King Thorin. When Frodo had asked about that in particular, his Uncle had simply said it was complicated. At the time he had accepted that answer, but now he was sure there was more to it. He was sure his Uncle was hurting, but he wasn’t sure how he could help. Maybe if he could speak with the King directly, he could figure out how to make his Uncle happy again. 

With this plan in mind Frodo was satisfied to let the matter rest for now, but he was determined to understand and get to the bottom of his Uncle’s unhappiness. He would just have to wait until they reached the mountain.


	14. Chapter 14

There was hardly a goodbye said, a simple head nod between them all from the King, nothing grand or tear inducing. The only one who was remotely sad to go was Bard. 

He and the King had shared a very intimate night together, but the normally distant King seemed even more so now and last evening. 

“Are you alright?” Bard had asked after they were finished. 

Thranduil had gathered himself and went to go stand by the window. He stood gazing out into the night sky, his face haloed by the soft light. Bard’s breath was taken from him every time he looked at the eternal king. 

“I am fine, my love.”

Bard started in surprise. Thranduil rarely used terms of endearment, and almost never said love. 

“You think yourself impenetrable, but I see through you,” Bard said, standing and coming behind him. He wrapped his arms around the King and the elf melted, just the slightest bit. If it had been anyone else to say those words, they would be dead, but the human King was given a pass. Still, Thranduil hesitated. 

“Something the Hobbit said is…troubling to me.”

“Oh,” Bard said closing his eyes and resting his chin on his lover’s head. 

“I am afraid I have made a grave mistake,” he said, his voice barely over a whisper. 

“In what way?”

Thranduil said nothing, but lowered his head just the smallest bit, looking down into his kingdom. From their vantage point they could see the Prince of Mirkwood packing his horse just as the first slivers of sunlight began to cut the sky. Bard looked down as well. 

“Legolas?”

Thranduil said nothing, but they both watched as his son left the Elven realm, alone. 

“There is no way the Hobbit could know such things. He will be fine, there is no reason to waste my time being concerned. Legolas is a seasoned warrior, he will be fine,” he whispered to himself, just barely loud enough for Bard to hear. He was about to ask for clarification when the Elven king turned around with a certain look in his eyes. Bard was distracted for the rest of the night. Still, such distractions do nothing for him the next day. He was still fixated on the strange words the King had whispered. He felt an odd fatherly concern for Legolas’ safety, if his life truly was in danger. He glanced at the Hobbit sitting near the front of the boat as they sailed along. Perhaps, when the opportunity presented itself, he would ask. 

The opportunity did not appear, until they reached Dale. When they had settled, and he had hugged his children more than once, and after they’d sat down for dinner. Finally, after he’d spoken and reported to his advisors and they to him, he was able to get the Hobbit alone. He’d actually found him standing near a window staring up at the mountain. 

“Bilbo, my friend, may I speak with you?” He said being sure to announce his presence so as not to startle his friend. 

Bilbo did not turn, but said, “Of course, Bard.”

“Since you already know of the nature of my relationship with Thranduil, I’m sure you will understand when I say that he may have let some things slip when he was speaking with me the other night,” Bard said somewhat unsure how to phrase his actual question. 

At this, Bilbo did turn to him, his brow raised, “Oh?”

“Yes, but it was not very clear what he was talking about. I was hoping that perhaps you would be able to clarify what he meant. He said something about not having to worry about Legolas, that he would be fine because he is an experienced warrior. Do you know anything about that? Is Legolas in danger?”

“You are concerned for Legolas?”

Bard seemed somewhat taken aback by the question, but he answered quickly, “Yes. I care very much for Legolas. He and I have grown closer over the years.”

Bilbo seemed surprised at this, “Really? How interesting, quite unique,” he muttered to himself. 

“Bilbo?”

The hobbit shook his head, “Never you mind. I told something in confidence to Thranduil because I believed Legolas’ life to be in danger if he should send him back to the Blue Mountains. I assume from your reaction that he did not follow my advice and went alone.”

Bard said nothing, but nodded. 

Bilbo sighed harshly through his nose and shook his head, “Just as stubborn as his father.”

“Then Legolas’ life is in danger?” Bard asked urgently. 

“I believe so, but it could be that Legolas will be fine. I would not concern yourself with it until something actually happens,” Bilbo said with a wave of his hand. 

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, yes, quite sure. Thranduil has made a choice and now he will have to labor in the consequences.”

“That sounded… ominous,” Bard said hesitantly. 

“Did it? It wasn’t my intention, but I seem to be doing that quite a bit lately. I suppose I make everything sound more dramatic than it has to be,” he said with a laugh. 

Bard laughed too, a little more unsure. 

They lapsed into silence, Bilbo lost in thought, and Bard waiting to see if he would say anything more. Instead Bilbo simply yawned. 

“I think I shall retire for the night. We have an early morning tomorrow. I want to thank you again for allowing us to stay here,” he said. 

“Of course, my friend. No need for thanks, I owe you a great deal.” 

Bilbo smiled, and left for his room. 

Bard watched him go, questions swirling in his mind, and no answers forthcoming.


	15. Chapter 15

Gandalf continued to watch his dear friend the closer and closer they drew to the mountain. The more he looked, the less he liked what he saw. Bilbo appeared to be wilting away. He was quiet and broody, only speaking when absolutely necessary and usually in clipped, short words. His face was becoming sallow and grey, and he was getting thinner and thinner, despite the fact that he ate regularly. Whenever he was asked about what he would do once he reached the mountain, he would dismiss the question or ignore it vehemently. Gandalf observed these things in silence, because he knew, trying to corner Bilbo would only result in him running away. 

Traveling from Dale to the lonely mountain was quick, faster perhaps, then Gandalf wanted. He had originally been eager to reach the mountain and reunite his friend with Thorin. He knew of their great passion for one another, but he also knew of the fear holding them both back. Still, Bilbo seemed to be absolutely dreading the meeting, and that was coming through their little group. Frodo could sense that something was wrong; and the normally boisterous and happy boy had grown quieter and quieter the closer they got to the mountain. 

When they were within sight of the grand doors of Erebor, there was a call to them. 

“Bilbo! Gandalf!” 

Two figures ran out to meet them, one blond and the other dark. Fili and Kili enveloped the small hobbit in a hug, and he laughed. Gandalf smiled at the scene as the dwarf princes lifted the light creature into the air, much to Bilbo’s sputtering. They set him down and noticed the even smaller hobbit. The brother’s eyes practically lit up and they both let out happy gasps. 

“Who is this?” Fili cried, lifting Frodo into the air as he squealed with delight.

“My nephew, Frodo Baggins,” Bilbo said with a laugh. 

“Pleased to meet you Master Boggins,” Fili set the small giggling boy down and the brothers bowed so low their long hair touched the ground. 

Frodo laughed all the louder, “It’s Baggins.”

“Of course, I’m Fili,” the elder prince said with a smaller bow.

“I’m Kili,” the younger said with a deeper bow than his brother. 

Frodo, still giggling said, “I know who you are.”

Both the brothers placed their hands to their hearts in exaggerated surprise and gasped. 

“You do?” Kili sang in a high-pitched voice.

“I had no idea we were famous, Kili,” Fili said with a flourish of his hand. 

“Uncle Bilbo has told me all about your adventures,” Frodo said, bouncing on his feet. “You’re just like what Uncle Bilbo said. I can’t wait to meet the rest of the company.”

Bilbo and Gandalf watched the exchange with a smile on their faces. Gandalf was glad to see the light and color back in Bilbo after such a long time of grey. 

“Well then, let’s go,” Fili said and lifted Frodo easily onto his shoulder the little boy laughing madly. 

Kili hung back to speak with Bilbo and he leaned down, “It’s so good to see you Mr. Boggins.”

Bilbo smiled wryly, “It is good to see you too, Kili, though I must say, you look far happier than I thought you would.”

Kili frowned, “What do you mean?”

Bilbo turned to him, a brow raised, “Your Uncle is dying of a mysterious illness, is he not?”

Kili stopped and looked down, shame coloring his face. Bilbo stopped too and gazed at the young Prince, hands on his hips.

“The truth is,” Kili began with a small voice, “we lied in order to get you here. Uncle Thorin has been utterly miserable these past few years because he misses you; we all do. The letters have been great, but we all wanted to see you. Of course, we don’t expect you to stay forever, but maybe through winter at least. You’re one of us so you’re always welcome and everyone thinks of you as a hero. I understand if you’re angry, but please don’t leave just yet. Uncle Thorin misses you, we all miss you,” he said in a rushed stream of words. 

Bilbo waved his hand and shook his head, “Don’t worry, my boy. I’m not leaving anytime soon. Frodo and I have taken this long journey with the intention for staying at least a while. To be honest, I’ve quite missed you all. I’ve realized, over the years, that my stuffy books and chair don’t fulfill me as they once did. Besides, I think it is time I returned for good perhaps, if you would have me of course?”

Kili’s eyes lit with happiness, “Of course, Bilbo! This is wonderful, everyone will be so happy, especially Uncle.”

Bilbo looked away, “How is the King?”

“Uncle is doing well, he is very liked and loved, and Erabor is flourishing. We’re trying to open trading with Mirkwood and Dale, and both are going well, I think. Uncle’s been training Fili in the ways of ruling and, to be honest, I think he’s going to make a great king someday.” 

“I would most agree,” Bilbo said mildly, and they lapsed into silence as they continued their way into Erebor. Kili fidgeted a bit, clearly wanting to say something, but unsure if it was welcome. Bilbo eyed him. 

“Go on.”

“Are you nervous about seeing Uncle again?” Kili burst. 

Bilbo only hesitated the slightest bit, “I suppose. It’s been many years since we have seen each other, I wonder if he has changed much. Not to mention the fact that I betrayed his trust all those years ago.”

Kili shook his head vehemently, “No, Bilbo, you didn’t betray him. What you did was for the best; it had to be done. Uncle wasn’t in his right mind when he banished you, and he never would have done that normally. He sees you as a very close friend and even as a-,” he froze as if he caught himself just in time. 

“Yes?” Bilbo asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Kili shook his head again, his mouth a close line. Bilbo simply laughed and shook his head. 

“Bilbo?”

The voice caused the hobbit to freeze in place. Kili watched with some concern and stepped back to allow them some room. Bilbo swallowed heavily and turned to the voice.

“Thorin.”


	16. Chapter 16

Thorin had never seen a more beautiful sight. When the scouts had told them of the Wizard and two children coming up the road from Dale to Erebor, Thorin had ignored it. Gandalf tended to wander in, ask of his wellbeing and then wander back out. The fact that he was traveling with children didn’t faze him, Wizards, especially the one he knew, were strange. But then his nephews had run out of their lessons like an arrow, yelling behind them for him to hurry. Rolling his eyes, he closed the book and began to make his way outside. When he finally made it, his breath caught in his throat. There he stood, the object of his fantasy and his thoughts for a large portion of the days. Bilbo Baggins stood before him as the light set behind. There was a smaller hobbit on the shoulders of Fili, but Thorin’s eyes were locked on his Burglar. He swallowed and finally found his voice.

“Bilbo.”

The Hobbit turned from his nephew, his eyes lit up, but it faded quickly. 

“Thorin.”

Before he could stop himself, the King was running up and wrapping his arms tightly around him. He took a deep breath, taking in the scent and for a moment, he was taken back years; to before all of it happened, before the dragon, before the gold, before the stone. He pulled away and kept his hands on Bilbo’s shoulders. Bilbo’s hands gripped his forearm, a smile on his face and in his eyes. 

“Bilbo, it’s so good to see you,” he gasped.

“It is good to see you too Thorin,” Bilbo’s voice was soft.

“I-I’m happy that you have come, but I’m not sure why,” Thorin said a little hesitant. 

Bilbo turned and looked at his nephews, who were both shuffling and staring at the ground in shame. Their faces were colored in embarrassment. 

“What did you two do?” Thorin demanded, reluctantly letting go and crossing his arms. 

“We may have lied to Mr. Boggins,” Kili began.

“But it was just to get him to come here,” Fili hurriedly added. 

“What did you tell him?” Thorin demanded in his King voice. 

“We may have told him you were dying of a mysterious illness,” Kili said quietly under his breath, but just loud enough that Thorin heard. 

“What?” Thorin roared. He was stopped from marching forward and grabbing their ears by a gentle hand on his arm. He paused and looked at Bilbo, whose eyes were light and there was a mischievous smile on his lips. For the second time that day Thorin’s breath was taken from him.

“Now Thorin, it was not all their fault. I’ve been dragging my feet to come back, and I’ve been rather secretive about what’s been going on in my life. This was their desperate last resort. Don’t blame them for my stubbornness,” he said, his voice soft and brushing through Thorin’s ear. 

Thorin took a moment to gather himself before asking, “Is there a particular reason why you took so long to visit?”

Bilbo said nothing but walked over to the young hobbit on his nephew’s shoulders. He picked him up and set him down on the ground and held his hand. As he came closer, Thorin dropped to one knee. 

“And what is your name?”

The boy’s eyes were fixed to the ground and his cheeks were a deep red. 

“My name’s Frodo Baggins, Your Majesty,” the little boy squeaked out.

Thorin shook his head, “You can call me Thorin, Mr. Baggins.” He stood and bowed. 

Frodo’s eyes were bright and wide; his mouth was agape as he stared up at his hero. He let go of his Uncle’s hand and stepped forward, “You’re amazing,” he breathed out in awe. 

Thorin laughed and Bilbo’s face turned red. 

“Why thank you Mr. Baggins. You too are amazing, and I’m sure you’ve been protecting your…Uncle?” Bilbo nodded. 

“We didn’t actually run into anything scary,” Frodo said bouncing on his feet. “I got to see the elves and Rivendell and Mirkwood and so much other stuff, it’s been amazing. I’m so happy we finally made it, though. I’ve always wanted to meet you; Uncle Bilbo has told me so much.”

“Has he?” Thorin glanced at Bilbo, whose face was reddening more. 

“Oh yes, he’s told me all about the company!”

“Speaking of,” Thorin began, “Maybe we should head inside so you can meet the rest of them. They’re all quite eager to meet you.” At that Thorin gestured to his own nephews, who had been waiting patiently behind. They hurried forward and picked up the little hobbit, much to his delight, and continued on inside, chattering and asking questions. 

Thorin and Bilbo followed somewhat behind. 

“I’m truly glad you came,” Thorin whispered. 

“I am too,” Bilbo smiled. 

“How long will you be staying?”

Bilbo hesitated, and for a moment Thorin feared he would be leaving immediately, but his answer surprised him. 

“I would like to stay with my nephew indefinitely. My home at Bagend is no longer what it once was. I craved to see the mountain, and the excitement,” he paused and looked up at the mountain. “And I missed you.” ww

Thorin’s smile hurt his face with how wide it was, “You are welcome to stay as long as you wish. Should that be forever, I will be happy. I missed you as well.” 

They said nothing else, but walked in companionable silence into the mountain.


	17. Chapter 17

Dwalin and Balin were the first to meet them, right past the front gate. They both hugged their hobbit friend tightly, laughing and grinning madly. When they were introduced to Frodo, Dwalin tossed him into the air and caught him expertly, all the while the child was laughing wildly. Balin scolded his brother, but did so with a wide smile. Finally, they gave the small hobbit boy back to the Princes and they all went on their way laughing and talking. 

Dwalin and Balin both turned to Bilbo.

“It’s good ta see you my friend,” Balin said softly grasping his shoulder.

“Aye, it’s been far too long since you visited.” Dwalin clapped him harder on the shoulder, but not enough to hurt. 

“I know, I know,” Bilbo began, “I had meant to visit far before now, but then Frodo came to me and I couldn’t risk the journey until he was older.”

“How did you come to the boy?” Thorin asked from his other side.

Bilbo’s face fell somewhat and Thorin internally cursed himself. He should have realized that the boy’s history would be a sad one, if he was adopted by his uncle. 

“His parents drowned several winters ago, and he came to me, his uncle,” his voice was low.

“I’m so sorry Bilbo,” Thorin whispered.

“Thank you, it was long ago and I’ve since made my peace with it,” Bilbo said with a soft smile. 

Thorin swallowed. Dwalin and Balin continued to ask Bilbo questions about his life over the years. Thorin listened with half and ear, but he was lost in his own thoughts. His mind was practically consumed with that soft smile. He had thought for years upon years that he would never see that smile, much less Bilbo’s face ever again. It filled him with a warm glow that he hadn’t felt in years. Hope filled him. Hope that he had a chance, hope that he was or could be forgiven, and hope that he could be truly happy again. 

When he’d woken after the battle of five armies, after he had established that his nephews would be alright, he went looking for their hobbit. He searched and searched, but he was stopped by Bofur. The look in the dwarf’s eyes was something Thorin preferred not to think on. There was ice, and anger and Thorin knew what had happened before the other dwarf even spoke.

“He’s gone,” Bofur had whispered. Then, he turned away from him and that was the last time he’d spoken to him outside what was necessary. 

Thorin understood the blame. He felt it more strongly than anyone. He understood that he had been sick, that it may not have been all him. But some small part of him saw what he was doing and did nothing to stop it. He had seen himself practically dangle his hobbit over the edge and he did nothing. If he could never see that look of pure fear and betrayal in Bilbo’s eyes, that would be enough for him to die a happy dwarf. 

Something was different, though. Bilbo’s eyes were off, distant and they seemed clouded by something. There was a tilt to his shoulders that indicated something heavy was laid across them. He looked tired, but not in a sleepy way, more in a world weariness that permeates the bones and the soul. Thorin only noticed this in one of advanced age, who were just tired of life. Maybe, he could pull Bilbo aside and ask him. 

“You look deep in thought. May I ask what about?” 

Bilbo was standing next to him, and Thorin realized with a deep blush that he had stopped walking. He looked around for Dwalin and Balin. 

“They’ve gone to get the others and prepare a feast, as they said. Though I told them that was totally unnecessary, they insisted. So, what were you think of so deeply?”  
Before he could stop himself, he blurted, “You.” At Bilbo’s shocked face he amended, “I was just think, that you look different then when I saw you last,” he floundered.   
“Really? In what way?” Bilbo’s head tilted curiously and Thorin wondered if his heart was going to explode. 

“I’m not sure. You carry yourself differently; almost like you are far older than your age,” Thorin said in what he hoped was the least offensive way possible.   
“Ah,” Bilbo turned a bit and looked down the beautifully carved stone walls. “I suppose a lot has happened since we last saw each other.” 

Thorin hummed in agreement, “Indeed.” 

There was a long moment of silence where the two simply basked in each other’s company. Thorin took a deep breath.

“Bilbo I-,” just then there was the sound of pounding footsteps and his nephews appeared around the corner, the smaller hobbit in tow. 

“Bilbo, come on everyone’s waiting,” Kili said grabbing Bilbo’s arm and ushering him along. 

“Alright, alright,” Bilbo laughed. 

Thorin could not help but smile. There would be time later for such confessions, of that Thorin was sure.


	18. Chapter 18

The banquet was a wild affair. Uproarious laughter shook the rafters, and the clanging and banging of cups and knives shook the table. Dwarves of all shapes and families were gathered side by side each having the time of their life. Some were unsure exactly why they were feasting, others had heard a hero returned home, only a select twelve knew the absolute truth, and they had not felt this happy in a long while. Their hobbit sat at the highest table to the left of the King. The thirteen sat at the table, laughing and telling stories, drinking and eating heartily. Thorin surveyed his family, so much larger than he remembered and his eyes fell on Bilbo. 

The Hobbit wore a smile so wide that his eyes were the brightest he’d ever seen. There was genuine happiness in Bilbo’s face, his voice, and the way he sat. There was a subtle warmth sitting in the pit of his stomach. For the first time in a long time, Thorin felt unequivocally happy. There was no lingering doubt, there was no guilt buried deep in the back of his mind. Bilbo had said he’d forgiven him long ago, and Thorin believed him. His shoulders felt light, the weight lifted, just by a few words. Thorin watched as his nephew and the smaller hobbit laughed and joked. He shook his head, knowing the three of them were going to quickly become the terror of the mountain. 

He glanced to Gandalf sitting close to the middle on his left side, and his good mood sank. 

Gandalf’s brow was drawn like a deep, bushy curtain over his eyes. His mouth was a thin line, disappearing into his beard. He was trying to discreetly watch Bilbo, but he was not very successful. It was clear he was observing the hobbit closely. Thorin decided, after the merriment he and the wizard would have a talk. 

The rest of the night went by quickly. Thorin’s good mood was shot, but he kept up a wide smile for the sake of appearance. Finally, the wizard stood and tapped his staff against the ground. 

“I’m off to bed, my friends,” he said with a smile and left the table. 

Thorin excused himself from the table, most still having a good time or too drunk to notice. He followed after the wizard quickly. 

“Gandalf,” He called into the hallway, glad that it was empty. 

He turned, “Ah, Thorin, what can I do for you?”

“I wanted to ask you, about Bilbo. I saw you watching him closely, is everything alright?” 

Gandalf’s smile disappeared, “You noticed that then?” 

“You were not subtle,” Thorin said with a sly smile, crossing his arms. 

Gandalf huffed and thumped his staff on the ground indignantly. He waited a moment before finally saying, “I’ve been worried for Bilbo during the whole journey.”

“Worried? Why?” 

“He’s been acting strangely. Staring off into space, saying odd things at random, but he seems happier since arriving at the mountain. I guessed that he must have been weighed down by the journey, or worried over his young nephew.”

“I am glad to know that he is at least better,” Thorin said a little unsure. 

Gandalf hummed in agreement, “We shall see,” he tapped his staff against the ground in thought. “Watch him closely, I worry for him.”

“Of course,” Thorin said. 

Gandalf placed a hand on his shoulder, “Have you spoken with him?”

“A bit, but nothing substantial. I have not had the chance to speak with him alone.” 

Gandalf looked like he was about to respond, when another voice rang out.

“Thorin,” Balin walked over to him, “What are you doing?”

“I was just speaking with Gandalf.”

“Gandalf?” 

When he turned around, the wizard was gone. Thorin sighed and shook his head, damn wizards. 

“Why aren’t you back inside? Everyone was beginning to wonder where you’d gone, Bilbo especially,” he added the last bit with a little raise of his brow. 

“Really?” Thorin said, sounding just a tad too eager. He cleared his throat, “Oh, I apologize I had no idea.”

Balin laughed, “You can’t hide it from me, lad. You’re far too obvious. Just tell him, lad, what have you got to lose?” 

“I could lose him,” Thorin sighed. 

“Or you could gain his love, and finally be happy,” Balin said gently. “Of course, it’s up to you, but neither of you are getting any younger. I would think you would want to take this chance before he is lost to you again.” 

Thorin frowned in thought, “Thank you, my friend. I will think on it. Tell the other’s that I have retired for the night.” 

Balin said nothing but gripped his king on the shoulder and left. 

Thorin began to the hallway his eyes trained to the floor in thought. If he did something to profess his love for Bilbo, would he ruin what they have? Their relationship was tenuous at best, considering that all was just forgiven. Would he destroy the fragile bridge that had built between them by professing?

He stepped into a small dip in the stone in the floor and his knees creaked in protest. This stopped him short. 

He was not getting any younger, and neither was Bilbo. He could see the lines of age carved across the hobbit’s face. To Thorin, they only made him look wiser and more distinguished. They could go to war tomorrow, they could die, or fall ill. Bilbo would never know how he truly felt. He only had one life, and should take control of it. If that meant losing his love, then he would have to take that chance, as long as Bilbo knew how he felt.

He hurried the rest of the way to his room and pulled out some charcoal and paper. Slowly and with great concentration he began to sketch.


	19. Chapter 19

Their time at the mountain passed by quickly, as most things do. At first a week passed, and then a month, then two. Bilbo’s time was spent giving advice to the King or tending to the underground garden. Frodo’s studies continued and the more Thorin watched him the more he could see how the two hobbits were related. Frodo was quiet, but only up to a point. If he was excited or passionate about something, he couldn’t be stopped. He, Fili, and Kili hit it off immediately. They went everywhere together and were constantly causing trouble. The amount of pranks had doubled since the hobbits came to Erebor, but no one could find it in their hearts to complain. 

The only thing that concerned Thorin was that from time to time, Bilbo would just disappear. For several hours no one would know where he was or what he was doing. After he reappears, Thorin attempts to interrogate him on where he goes, but Bilbo is evasive and dismissive. 

“Don’t worry Thorin.” 

He would always say, but still, Thorin would worry. But even this fell to routine, and the worry wandered to the back of the King’s mind. He was simply happy that Bilbo had decided to stay indefinitely. Even so, he should not be one to talk. 

Once a day, Thorin would disappear into his private smelter for hours at a time. Finally, after three months of work and designing and scrapping and restarting, his gift was finally finished. He gripped the bead tightly in his hand behind his back, his other hand clenched around it. He would start the walk down to Bilbo’s room and then circle back, then try again, then circle back. His breathing was coming out in short huff of frustration. His desire was building, but so was his anxiety. If he was wrong, would Bilbo leave? What if he was laughed at? He immediately shook that thought. Bilbo would never laugh at him for that. Not for being sincere and honest. Even if Bilbo rejected him, Thorin was sure that he would do so kindly and with grace that he always had. That thought was enough to surge him forward. 

He walked with purpose, no one stood in his way. Twice, dwarves had tried to stop and speak to him, but he just waved his hand and continued on his way. He came to the door a bit faster than he would have liked, but nonetheless, he gathered his nerve and knocked. 

There was a small sound of scrapping and the door opened. 

Bilbo poked his head out and gazed up at Thorin curiously. 

“Thorin, is everything alright?”

Thorin cleared his throat, “May I come in?”

Bilbo wordlessly opened the door far enough for the King to come inside. Thorin marched in and took in the room quickly. It was neat and well put together, there was a large book sitting on the desk and a stack of paper to one side. 

“What are you working on?” Thorin asked, almost desperate to delay. 

“Oh, I was just putting the finishing touches on my book. It’ll be done after today,” Bilbo said with a sad smile. 

“Ah, good, good,” Thorin murmured. He could feel beads of sweat dripping down his back and his grip on the bead tightened. “Bilbo, there is something I must tell you.”

Bilbo turned to him with a smile, “Oh?”

“Yes,” Thorin cleared his throat again and prayed just for a second. “Bilbo, I have always admired you, and I have found you to be the most inspiring and kind person I have ever met.” Bilbo opened his mouth to speak, but Thorin forged on, “I find myself attracted to your stubbornness, your passion, and your wit. I enjoy talking with you so much that I could do so all day, every day. When you left, I felt a part of myself leave with you. I was no longer truly happy, and I never regretted my actions during my sickness more than when I realized I had hurt you. Truly, you had defied my expectations when I first met you, and now you continue to surprise me.” Thorin began to reach his closed fist forward, “What I am trying to say is, will you allow me the honor to court you?”

“Oh Thorin, I’m so sorry.”

Thorin’s entire body froze. He felt a wave of cold, then heat surge through him from his head down to his boots. His hand shot back behind him, the bead biting into his skin. 

To his credit, Bilbo did look very sorry.

“I-I appreciate it, Thorin, and it is very kind of you, but…I’m not looking for anything like that anymore. I have Frodo to take care of and a relationship could take away from that. I am sorry, Thorin,” his voice was soft and full of pity. 

Thorin nodded tightly, “Of course, I understand. I am sorry to have placed this on you, please excuse me.” Before Bilbo could say another word Thorin had taken wide strides out of the room and was down the hall. He marched fast with his head down, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. He felt the tears of disappointment and rejection in the back of his throat. He knew he left rather quickly, but he promised himself he would go back after he had gathered himself. He almost ran to his favorite, secluded place in the mountain. He blew into his room and then out onto the balcony. As soon as the cold air hit his face, he released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been hold. Shaky mist wafted into the air, and the cold water stung at his cheeks. He wiped furiously at the tears, but more fell to replace them. Giving up he sighed and opened his hand. 

The bead rolled around in his palm, a red ring of marks surrounding it from how tightly he was gripping it. The bead itself was made of polished glimmering silver. It was small, but big enough that the etchings and carvings were visible. Leaves and flowers danced around in a circle, twisting and turning in complicated knots. With a furious swallow he gripped the bead and brought his hand back. With a grunt he threw the little bead into the misty mountain below. It disappeared from view almost instantly. 

Thorin wasn’t sure how long he was out on the balcony for, but he heard a rushed knocking at his door. He sighed and went and wrenched it open. Kili stood behind it gasping for air. He was bent a bit, his hands on his knees. As soon as the door was opened he stood up.

“Uncle! Bilbo’s gone!” He cried. 

Thorin froze for the second time that day. “What?” He whispered. His nephew was babbling about something, but Thorin just pushed past him and sprinted down the hall. He appeared before the Hobbit’s door and slammed it open. Inside, Fili was holding a sobbing Frodo. He surveyed the room and went over to his eldest nephew. 

“What happened?” He demanded. 

Fili said nothing but held up a single letter, written on front to back. Thorin took it and with trembling hands read it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm evil.


	20. Chapter 20

My dearest Thorin,  
It pains me to no end that you will receive this letter when I am already gone. As I am sure you and everyone else have noticed, I have been acting strangely. I must admit that I was far too tired to hide it. Something very strange happened to me a long time ago. When I died the first time, it was of old age. I had crossed the ocean with the elves after a long and adventurous life. Then I woke up, young again and I realized, only a few days before our adventure began. In the previous time, you and your nephews fell prey to the orcs much to the devastation of myself and the rest of the party. I saw that this was the gods giving me a second chance; a chance to make a difference and prevent everything from happening. In that timeline I was able to keep your nephews alive, but you killed yourself from the gold sickness. I lived that entire lifetime again, regretting and wondering what I could have done differently. I thought it was my only chance, I was wrong. I have lived many times, each one different. Sometimes you and your nephews would live, sometimes none of you lived. Sometimes Frodo would live, sometimes he would die with his parents. Each time was different, but I have never tried to take the ring myself. Forgive me, I know this must sound strange, or impossible even, but I am sure that if you show this letter to Gandalf he will understand as much as he can. I cannot explain or pretend to understand why or how this is happening, all I can say is that it is. I expect that when I finally die for real, it will be the first question I ask them.   
Thorin, my love, I am sorry to have denied you. In truth, I was utterly flattered by your proposition, and were it a different time and place, I would have taken it. I knew I would have to leave on my final adventure soon, and there is a high chance that I will not survive my journey. I did not want to put you through that pain of growing close only to have it ripped from you in my death. I love you Thorin, more than anything and I have loved you for a thousand lifetimes. All that I ask of you, is to take care of Frodo; I know you will. Spending this time at the mountain has reminded me of your kindness and it assures me that you do deserve to be king. So far, this timeline has been the best. No one has died, no one has suffered, and I will be taking the ring. I believe, and I hope that this will be my final time. Know that I love you, and tell Frodo I am sorry.   
Yours,  
Bilbo Baggins


	21. Chapter 21

The page fell uselessly from his hands. He stumbled back until his knees hit the bed and he collapsed onto it. He shook his head over and over. His nephew approached him like one would a concerned animal and picked up the page.

“Uncle?”

“I don’t understand,” Thorin murmured.

Fili too, shook his head. “Uncle, I-,” he took a deep shaking breath. “What do we do?”

Thorin said nothing, his eyes trained to the floor. He did not move, he did not blink, Fili worried if he was breathing. Slowly he reached forward and gently lay his hand on his Uncle’s shoulder. The older dwarf started, coming back to himself. He sprang up and began pacing madly. 

“We must go after him, he couldn’t have gotten far,” he said and ran out.

Startled, Fili tripped in trying to run after his Uncle. When he stumbled out into the hallway, his Uncle was out of sight. He sighed, his shoulders dropping with the weight. 

“Fili, what is going on?” A stern voice demanded. 

The young Prince turned and saw the grey wizard stalking down the hall, his robe flying behind him in his pace. His eyes almost disappeared beneath his bushy brow and his frown twisting his beard. 

Fili said nothing, but handed the paper to him. 

“What is this?”

Fili just shook his head.

There was a long moment of silence as the wizard read the letter. Fili could see the eyes of the wizard scanning the words faster and faster. 

“What?” It came out as a tiny confused whisper. “I don’t believe it… but I must, it makes so much sense,” this was said more to himself than Fili. “All the signs, how he knew…it makes sense. It makes sense…and the ring…the ring.” Suddenly he exploded into motion and began down the hall, motioning for Fili to follow.

“I must write a letter to Elrond, explaining everything. Fool of a hobbit has gone to Mordor,” Gandalf growled, his voice seeming to shake the stones. 

Fili stumbled again, “Mordor?” He cried in a high voice. 

Without missing a beat, “Yes, he’s taken the ring to Mordor.”

“The ring?” Fili felt like he was falling, his head spinning and light. 

“The great ring of power, the one ring. I don’t have time to explain,” Gandalf said and disappeared into his room with a slam. Fili stood outside, perplexed and blinking. 

Suddenly another dwarf ran up to him, panting and clutching his side. “Your majesty,” he began, “Lord Thranduil demands to see the King, but we can’t find him.”

“Thranduil is here?” 

The dwarf nodded.

Fili ran a hand over his face, “Can’t it wait?”

“He is being rather insistent my lord,” the dwarf panted. 

Fili sighed harshly through his nose, “Very well, take me to him.”

They walked brusquely through the halls, marching to the main hall. Fili could hear shouting coming from within, even through the thick wooden doors. With another heavy sigh, he opened them and resisted the urge to turn right back. 

“Where is the Hobbit?” Thranduil’s voice boomed. 

“Why do you wish to see him?” Fili began as he walked towards the pacing king. He had an odd sensation of déjà vu as he compared the elven ruler to his uncle’s frantic face moments ago. 

“He knows something! He knew what would happen, I don’t know how, but he knew this would happen. I must speak with him, now,” he shouted. It was odd to see the cool as ice king acting almost frantic. 

“I don’t understand, your majesty,” Fili began calmly, “please explain.”

“My son is dying,” Thranduil spat.

Fili flinched back in surprise, his eyes wide. “Prince Legolas? How?”

Thranduil threw his hands up and spun in a frustrated circle. “I have received word from the Blue mountains that he was gravely injured by orcs on his journey. They have been trying to treat him as best as they could, but they say it is hopeless. The Hobbit told me not to send my son, he warned me. How did he know? How could he have known?” He shouted the questions up to the ceilings and Fili swallowed. 

“Bilbo is gone,” he began and when the furious and much taller king spun on him, he hastily continued, “he has gone to Mordor!”

All of the fury seemed to bleed out of Thranduil, replaced by shock. 

“Mordor? Why?”

“Gandalf says that it was to destroy the one ring?” Fili parroted, not really understanding what he was saying. 

“Gandalf,” Thranduil whispered to himself, “Mayhap he can help…” He spoke louder, addressing the prince directly, “Where is he?”

“Who?” Fili asked, his head beginning to hurt.

“Gandalf! Where is he?” The elf King’s voice was back to its previous rafter shaking volume. 

Fili said nothing but hurried out back the way he came towards Gandalf’s room. Before he left he made sure one of the dwarves went to find Thorin and tell him that Thranduil was here. He sprinted down the hall followed by the furious whirlwind that was the king of the woodland elves. As soon as he stopped at Gandalf’s door, Thranduil was pounding on it furiously. 

The door swung open with such speed that the king nearly fell into the room. 

“What?” The wizard snapped, then he seemed to start in surprise when he realized who it was banging on his door. 

“Thranduil?”

“Never mind,” the king said pushing past him. “My son is dying of a mysterious poison and that Hobbit knew about it before it happened. You will explain everything.”  
Gandalf raised one of his brows, but handed over the letter from his desk. The other letter he had written for Elrond was already sealed and had been sent off. 

There was a tense moment of silence as Thranduil’s eyes traced along the page. He frowned and clutched the paper closer to his face as if that would give him more answers. 

“What is this nonsense?” He demanded as he brandished the paper. 

“It makes sense. Bilbo warned you that something would happen, did he not? It is no one’s fault but yours that you failed to listen,” Gandalf said calmly, but icily. 

Thranduil drew back as if he had been struck. “I could not have known…” he trailed off. 

Suddenly another dwarf burst in and said, “Prince Fili, King Bard has arrived looking for King Thranduil!”

Fili threw his hands up into the air, “Why don’t we have every bit of royalty on Middle Earth convene in our halls, then? Let us all throw a party and fall apart together,” he growled and marched over to the young dwarf. “You are going to listen to me and do exactly as I say,” the dwarf nodded frantically. 

“Gather the best healers we have and send them to the Blue Mountains, tell them to do everything they can for the Elf Prince. Then you are going to gather as many dwarves as you can and you are going to find King Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin and bring them here. Once they are found you are going to begin to gather our best fighters and generals and wait in the main hall for further instructions. Do you understand?” The young dwarf nodded and sprinted out. 

After he left, Bard entered, far more calmly and far more apologetic than his elf lover. He went straight over to Thranduil who had been standing in the middle of the room looking lost. 

“Prince Fili, I must apologize in his stead, he is quite distraught,” Bard said calmly taking Thranduil’s arm. The elf king seemed like he was about to protest, when he closed his mouth again. He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. 

“I-Thank you, Prince Fili, for your aid, but I do not think it will be enough, I must send word to Elrond and perhaps send off some of my own healers,” Thranduil said far more calmly than before. Just the presence of his human seemed like a switch had gone off. 

“When we have found the King, we will figure all of this out,” Fili said. 

“I don’t understand, what is happening?” Bard asked.

“All will be explained once everyone is gathered,” Gandalf responded. 

Fili sat down in the chair at the desk and sighed heavily. He felt as if he had aged over a hundred years and he only hoped that things would get better with the entrance of his Uncle and the two advisers. He knew in his heart his hope was wrong.


	22. Chapter 22

Dwalin was the first to arrive and it was obvious when he did. The door slammed open so hard that it banged into the opposite wall. Everyone started, especially the already jumpy Elven King, whose hand went directly to his sword. When he was pacified by his lover, he leaned back unimpressed trying to save face. 

“Magnus filled me in,” Dwalin said quietly to Fili, “or at least as much as he could. Bilbo is gone, the elven Prince is dying in the Blue Mountains, and Thorin has gone missing, did I miss anything?” 

Fili sighed, “That’s about it, yeah.”

Dwalin sighed too and shook his head, “Damn, lad, what have you been up too?”

Fili nearly jumped up, “Me?”

Before, Dwalin could answer, Balin entered far more calmly than his brother. He gave a solemn nod to the royalty in the room and went and stood next to Fili. 

“I trust that everyone has been filled in, then?” Balin said.

“I still don’t understand why Bilbo left,” Dwalin growled. 

“I will explain everything when Thorin arrives,” Gandalf said quietly. 

They sat in silence for a while longer, until the door slowly creaked open. King Thorin entered, his shoulders hunched, his eyes downcast. Fili’s heart sank at the sorry state of his beloved Uncle. It looked as if he had aged fifty years in just a few hours. It didn’t even register to the dwarf that the elven King was standing in his domain. He immediately went over to Gandalf. 

“Do you know where he went?” He asked softly.

Gandalf sighed and nodded. He gripped his staff with both hands and leaned heavily, he looked just as world weary as the Kings. 

“Bilbo has gone to Mordor.”

Thranduil started, “Why has the hobbit gone there?”

“He plans to cast out the ring into the fires of Mount Doom. I had seen the stirrings of Mordor and Isengard, and I see now, it was as I feared. Sauron was looking for his ring, it just so happened to fall into the hands of our small hobbit friend. He must have known how to destroy the ring from the previous lives he has lived. I wonder how many times the ring has been destroyed? I wonder how many times the ring has fallen to Sauron? In his letter, he says that he has never tried to destroy it himself, mayhap, he feels that will set him free; allow him to move on and stop reliving his life over and over. I see now, that he had spent his time in Rivendell studying how to best get to Mordor. He left this morning, yet we do not know which path he has taken. His journey will be long, and I fear there is nothing we can do to aid him,” there was immense sorrow in his voice, and as he continued his weight shifted slowly on his staff, leaning heavier and heavier.

“There must be something we can do,” Thorin cried, his voice shaking only to those who knew what to look for. 

“What could we possibly do? We do not know which path he has taken, we do not even know if he will make it. One does not simply walk into Mordor,” Thranduil said icily. 

“I believe that Bilbo would be a fool if he did not stop in the realm of Galadriel, and he is no fool. Perhaps, if we hurry, we can catch him there,” Gandalf murmured more to himself than the rest of the room. 

“You say ‘we’ as if all here are participating,” Thranduil spat. “I will not be going anywhere but the Blue Mountains.”

“Thranduil, this does not just involve the dwarves or the humans, this involves the whole of Middle Earth. Should the ring fall to the wrong hands, then that is the end of all things,” Gandalf scolded.

“My son lies dying in a foreign land, alone. I will not waste my time with such wild chases, not even knowing if we are going to catch the hobbit,” Thranduil’s voice was harsh as steel, but Bard could see and hear the tremor. He could see the fear in his lover’s eyes and feel the desperation. 

“I will go in Thranduil’s stead. Allow him to go to his son, I will journey with you and help as much as I can,” Bard said, his voice humble and regal.  
“Bard-I,” Thranduil began, but his lover interrupted him.

“No, I will go. You must see to your son, and I will see to it that the world does not fall to darkness,” he said it half as a joke, but the gravity of their mission was beginning to weigh with realization. 

Thranduil looked as if he would object, but instead he simply nodded, “Very well, that is your choice. I thank you.”

Gandalf stood a bit straighter, “Then it is decided that we will leave at first light.”

They convened, and each began to head to their rooms and pack. Bard was given his own room and his own supplies, courtesy of King Thorin. He wrote a quick letter to his children, informing them of what was happening without worrying them too much. Just as he handed it off, Thranduil entered. Bard did not expect it, but the elf walked up to him and took his face in his hands. In a rare show of affection, he brought them together until their foreheads touched. He closed his eyes, and breathed deeply, enjoying the company. Thranduil pulled away, but only far enough for him to be able to look his lover in the eyes. 

“Thank you,” he whispered to the space between them. 

“There is no need to thank me, my love,” Bard began, somewhat bewildered by this display, “I could not imagine if it was my own son. Legolas needs you, I’m sure that he will recover.”

“I-I cannot lose my son,” Thranduil whispered so quietly it almost couldn’t be heard. “I cannot lose you too,” he kissed his human gently, “come back to me,” and before Bard could say anything else the elf was gone. 

Down the hall, walking at a brisk pace, Fili and Thorin marched, one struggling to keep up with the other. 

“Uncle, you realize I am coming with you, right?”

Thorin did not stop, “I need you to stay here. Should something happen to me, you will claim the throne.”

Fili jogged and stepped in front of his King, halting his pace. Thorin realized with a start that his nephew had grown taller than him, and for a small moment, he felt very, very old. He gazed up at the eyes of his eldest nephew, hard with resolve and determination to prove himself. He remembers a time when he was that age. When he wanted to prove himself to his elders. 

“Bilbo is my friend, and there is nothing you can do to stop me from going,” Fili’s voice broke no room for argument, even so Thorin had to try. He was about to do so, but he was stopped by a shout down the hall.

“Frodo!” 

The two dwarves turned and saw Kili rounding a corner toward them. A blue of curly brown hair was shooting towards them. The little hobbit stopped directly in front of Thorin, not even panting, while the youngest dwarf was gasping for air as he jogged up behind. 

“Where is my Uncle?” He demanded in a rather adult voice.

Thorin took a deep breath and knelt down on one knee. He could see the determination Frodo’s eyes, but he could also see the fear. Thorin placed his large hands on the little hobbit’s shoulders, almost completely covering them.

“Your Uncle has gone off on a very special journey in order to save us. But he believes that he must go alone. I swear to you, Frodo Baggins, that I will bring your Uncle back.”

Frodo said nothing, but stared into the older Dwarf’s face. His eyes searching for something unseen. Finally, he nodded, “I believe you. Promise that you’ll bring Uncle Bilbo home.”

Thorin stood and nodded, “I promise you.” He fully intended on keeping this promise, even if it cost him his life.


	23. Chapter 23

They left as they had planned at dawn. Thorin was the most impatient out of them all. He was practically waiting outside the door for them. He barked orders and spoke harshly, as he is want to do under stress, but Gandalf quickly shut him down.

“I will not be spoken to like I am a lesser being,” Gandalf growled with a slam of his staff. “We all know of the gravity of the mission, and we are all experience travelers.”

Thorin was appropriately mollified and stopped barking orders. He still remained impatient, though. He was strides ahead of even the humans, his legs pumping fast. They went from daybreak until it was too dark to see, but even then, Thorin wanted to travel at night. He was quickly voted down by the rest of the group, and he understood their reasons, but it didn’t stop him from grumbling. He was sulking by himself in a corner and Fili sat down next to him.

“Uncle, I know you are worried, but you need to calm down. Your getting increasingly more and more irritable and stressed. Even Dwalin is growing annoyed at your behavior.” 

His nephew spoke calmly and with respect, but Thorin still felt like a scolded child. The king sighed and nodded.

“You speak the truth nephew, I know that my mood has made me impossible. I love him Fili, and he is traveling these wild lands, alone. Not to mention his destination is the most dangerous place on Middle Earth. He is but one Hobbit, but he has taken on the entirety of the future of our world on his shoulders, alone,” Thorin said, his head in his hands. 

“Uncle,” Fili began, placing his hand on his shoulder, “He has lived this life so many times, I think he is prepared enough. Besides, our hobbit is a clever one, he can survive until we join him, and then there’s no chance we will lose.”

Thorin looked up at his young nephew, his eyes full of confidence and surety. He suddenly felt the heaviness of his own age. He remembers being that young, that full of life. His nephew was by no means naïve or innocent, but there is a certain sense of immortality, of indestructability that came with youth. Thorin wished he could be so sure.

“You are right, nephew. I should try to have faith in our Hobbit.” 

Fili smiled at his Uncle and stood, “I’m going to collect wood for a fire.”

Thorin nodded and smiled, just the barest twitch of his lips and was left alone with his thoughts. 

Across the camp, King Bard sat down with a heavy sigh, stretching his legs as far as they would go and hearing cracks like a popping fire. The human King shook his head and leaned back, he felt a presence sit down next to him, but he made no move to look.

“Sore, my friend?”

Bard opened one eye to look at Balin, “Indeed, I am not as young as I once was, you know.”

The older dwarf chuckled and nodded, “I must agree, it has been several long years since I went on a journey like this.”

Bard nodded in agreement and they both lapsed into companionable silence. Bard had grown to think of Balin as a good friend. Of the group of dwarves he found Balin to be the most reasonable, and easy to talk to. He was level headed, and he didn’t jump into a situation without asking for all of the facts first. Balin tended to be the mediator between the elves and the dwarves. 

Thinking of the elves, Bard’s mind wandered to his lover and his son. He hoped that Legolas was doing alright, or at least not looking as dour as it sounded. From the letter he read it seemed like the elf had no chance of survival. 

“A mysterious poison,” they had called it, but dwarfs were not known for their healing. Bard was glad he had made the decision to go in Thranduil’s place. A father needed to be with their son, and he doubted Thranduil would have come with them anyway. He hoped the letter he had sent to Rivendell reaches them soon. He knew his lover would be too proud, but he was not beyond asking for outside help. He sighed.

“Thinking hard?” Balin asked, his voice showing his amusement.

“I am,” Bard admitted with a laugh, “I was just thinking of Thranduil and his son.”

“Ah,” Balin nodded, “The sick prince, yes?”

Bard nodded and sighed again. “I worry for them both. Should Prince Legolas die, I think Sauron will have to compete with Thranduil for the destruction of Middle Earth. My love is a wise man, but he does not handle raw emotions well. Sometimes he buries them until he seems cold and sharp as a blade. Other times it controls him and he does not think rationally. I recall his hunt for those jewels that your previous king kept.” Balin look as if he was going to defend or argue, but Bard held up his hand, “There is no bad blood, it is all in the past, my friend. I only mention it as an example.” Balin seemed pacified and he motioned for the king to continue.   
“Thranduil was truly willing to go to war over those gems. He was governed by grief, for the gems were made for his wife who was lost to him many years ago. I have been told, though, that Legolas is the spitting image of his wife, and though he sometimes acts as cold as his father, there is kindness in his heart. Thranduil could not see that, he could only see the gems that reminded him so much of his wife, when he has the greatest reminder of them all. Thranduil has not been the best to his son, and if what he told me was correct, then he was warned against sending his son on his mission. He must blame himself and feel so guilty.”

Balin sat for a moment, “I could not imagine sending my son to die, his pride is always his downfall.”

“Yes, Thranduil is prideful, but he means well. He genuinely wants things to work between himself and the dwarves. He sent his son because he had faith in him.”  
Balin looked up at the human King, who’s eyes were far away. 

“You love them both.”

Bard nodded slowly, “Indeed I have grown quite fond of both of them. I have watched Legolas slowly grow in kindness and understanding with that dwarven fellow, Gimli. He has made great progress and I would even say they are close friends. As for Thranduil, I have seen the love he has for his son and his people. I can see how many would call him cold, even cruel, but the truth is, it is all a facade. He is not what many think. He is kind and patient, he just wants to keep his people safe, as any king does.”

Bard looked down at his friend, “And what of your king?” 

“What of him?”

“Have you seen a difference in him?” 

Balin looked back across the camp at his King who sat alone, his eyes far away.

“I have.”


	24. Chapter 24

The journey was quick, all of them being experienced travelers. Thorin pushed them all hard, though he was somewhat more lenient after his talk with his nephew. It only took them three weeks’ worth of travel to reach the realm of Galadriel and she greeted them warmly. 

“I presume you are following brave Bilbo?” She said, her voice was soft and seemed almost sad.

Thorin abandoned his hesitation and nervousness at standing before one of the most powerful beings in Middle Earth and he stepped forward. 

“Bilbo was here?” He asked, he was doing his best not to sound desperate, but from the look of pity on her face he didn’t succeed. 

“He was. He arrived here three days ago and left soon after. I could sense something changed within him, something beyond this world. I presume he told you as he did me?” Galadriel said with a small tilt of her head.

“Yes, my lady,” Fili said, stepping up because his uncle remained silent. 

“Such a weight to be placed on such small shoulders. Though, I could not think of anyone I would trust such a weight to. He was wise, and it was odd to talk with someone who has lived the equivalent of as long as I have lived.” Her eyes gazed over them each in turn, they each felt as if this elven queen was gazing into their soul, which she probably was. “You may stay here for the night, should you wish.”

Thorin stepped up, “Thank you my lady, we would be honored to stay the night.”

“You have changed so much, King Under the Mountain,” Her voice rang within his mind. He said nothing in response, but only bowed. 

Galadriel waved her hand and several elves stepped forward and led them away.

Far away in the opposite direction, the Blue Mountains loomed over an ancient king, but they were not his concern. His fears were held within and lie dying. He was astride his horse, proud, frightening and no one dare step in his way.

Merle, a stout dwarf with a kind face walked up to the King, he was the first to approach. He bowed lowly and with respect said:

“Welcome My Lord Thranduil, to the Blue Mountains, my name is Merle and-,” he was interrupted as the King impatiently dismounted and pushed past him.

“I do not have time for this, where is my son.”

Merle hurried after the much taller elf, pumping his legs to catch up. “I am the head cleric my Lord and I must tell you that it is not looking good. Did you bring healers of your own?”

“They are on their way,” Thranduil said and stopped. He glanced around himself and realized he was at a fork where two stretches of long stone hallways with windows casting grey light of evening. He swallowed and turned to the dwarf, “Take me to my son…please.”

Merle smiled patiently and simply turned back the way they came and waved his hand to follow. Thranduil, embarrassed and as humbled as he ever could be, followed. He caught up with the much smaller dwarf easily and kept himself from striding in front of him. It was difficult considering each of Thranduil’s strides was worth two of Merle’s. 

“Do you know what happened to my son?”

Merle’s smile faded some, “As he was returning to the Blue Mountains, he saw Dain and his company struggling with an unusually large group of orcs. I was told that they took the company by surprise. Prince Legolas threw himself into the battle to aid them and I heard he fought fiercely, but he was caught unawares by a clever orc that managed to cut him just the slightest bit on his upper arm. The fighting was over and he was thanked profusely by the company, by the time he made it to the mountain he seemed ready to collapse. He did, and was taken to me and I found the small cut on his arm was either infected or poisoned. Considering that it had not been that long since the battle, it must have been poison. It is something I and the other healers have never seen before, but we are doing our best.”  
Thranduil could hear the sincerity in his voice, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He only wanted to see his son. 

As they arrived in the medical ward a tall dwarf stood in front of the door. His shoulders were set in a proud stance and he was draped in furs and bright red hair. His face was set in a grim line. He inclined his head, as much of a bow as he would give any elf.

“Thranduil.”

“Dain.”

There was an awkward silence broken by the surprisingly sincere voice of the great dwarf, “Your son saved my life and the lives of my men, I thank you.” 

“It is very like my son to help those he feels are in need.” Thranduil took just the smallest bit of pleasure from the slight bristle of the dwarf. 

Merle shook his head, tired of this annoying powerplay. He stepped up, “My lord, may I?”

Dain seemed to remember why the elf was here in the first place and moved with a slight reddening of his face. Thranduil entered quickly and then faltered. 

His son lay on the bed nearest to the door surrounded by several dwarves, bustling and cleaning and checking. Thranduil slowly walked up to the bed, making no sound as he went. The closer he came to the Prince the sicker he felt. 

Legolas’s skin was a grey pallor, almost like the corpse of a man. His face and exposed chest was slick with sweat and his breathing stuttered unevenly. Every few seconds he would swallow, but it looked like it pained him immensely. 

The bustling dwarves stopped as he reached the bed and watched him, but he didn’t care. Slowly, with a shaking hand, he reached out and gently lay it across his son’s forehead. He burned to the touch, and Thranduil almost jerked away.

“Legolas,” he said, his voice just a breath, but the prince must have heard or felt the presence of his father, for his eyes opened. They were glassy and unfocused, but they managed to find his king. 

“Father?”

“I am here Legolas,” his voice was still a bare whisper.

Legolas’s eyes slid shut again. Thranduil withdrew his hand and clenched it at his side. He turned to the closest dwarf who stepped back at the fierce expression.

“Let me see the wound.”

The dwarf made stuttering movements towards the Prince, but Merle placed a hand on his shoulder and stepped up instead. Gently, with on hand, he lifted Legolas’s left arm and began to unwrap the thick, white, bandages.

The Elven King had to hold in a gasp and keep from vomiting. 

The wound was a horrible black color, oozing yellow pus and blood. The actual cut looked as if the skin was simply rotting away around it. Veins of the dark color spread out up and down his arm spreading and taking over his body. 

Thranduil turned away, “Thank you.”

He could hear the slight rustle as Merle rewrapped the bandages.

“We have done all we can, but we have never seen this poison before. The only saving grace, is that it spreads slowly. We have been able to slow it further, but it is still taking over his body and we have found no cure. I sent word to Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel and I should receive a correspondence soon. I hope they will have better success than us.” Merle’s voice was soft, like he didn’t want to disturb anything. 

“Merle. Thank you for everything you have done for the Prince. I know the history between the elves and the dwarves has not always been peaceful, so I realize the significance of your kindness,” the King said softly. 

“Your Majesty, it was not kindness.” Thranduil turned to see the dwarf looking down at the prince, “Your son saved the life of mine. My boy was always so adventurous and this tended towards arrogance, he was out with Dain when the orcs attacked. He told me that Legolas saved his life at the price of receiving this wound. It could have very well been my own son lying on this bed, and I am forever grateful that it was not. I owe your son a great deal and more, so it was not kindness.”

Thranduil returned to his son’s side and lay a gentle hand on the skin between his neck and shoulder. He could feel the heat of the fever, but he could also feel his fast pulse. His son was still alive and he would remain so. 

“Thank you, none the less.”

Merle nodded, “Prince Legolas will live, he is fighting this will all his might and that is no small thing.”

Thranduil knew the words were meant to be comforting, but he could not help the sinking feeling building in his stomach.


	25. Chapter 25

Thorin traveled with a kind of manic obsession as a man without water in the desert. He truly had no idea what he was getting into or where he was going, but he knew he had to get there. They stopped rarely and only when it became to dark to see, and even then, they jogged in the moonlight. Fear for his one was driving Thorin to his breaking point. He barely slept, barely ate, yet he moved the fastest of them all. It was clear he was brushing the edge of the brink as they reached Mordor. There was rarely a word spoken amongst the small group, but the air was as heavy as any words. 

“We will rest for the night,” Gandalf said in a tone that broke no room for argument. “We will be no help to Bilbo if we are too exhausted to fight.”

Thorin glanced to the Wizard, and back at the expanse of darkness. It looked as if there were the beginnings of tall structures; spires that stretched up like gnarled fingers clawing at the Gods. The gate was enormous, but there were large gaps and cracks webbing up the stone. 

“We will plan tomorrow,” Bard commented as he began to set up camp. 

Thorin said nothing, but turned back to the cracks in the wall, he could almost imagine a small figure darting in the shadows. He grit his teeth and felt his whole body seize with tension. He closed his eyes and swore he could hear a soft, quiet voice telling him to breath. All of the air and strain left his body in one quick puff. His chest heaved with the effort to refill his lungs, a hidden weight crushing. He nearly took off the hand that found itself on his shoulder. The other king, the human king stood above him looking out into the dark. 

“Are you afraid?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t be.” 

Thorin scoffed, and almost shook the hand off, but there was something nice about the warmth. The human, Bard, continued. 

“Bilbo is strong, not just for a Hobbit, but stronger than any fighter I have ever met. He deserves your confidence in him as much as your love.”

“That is true, but Bilbo is one person,” Thorin growled low. 

Bard took his hand away and crossed his arms. He looked every bit a King. 

“That may be, but, Bilbo has the advantage of living his life over and over. Surely that must mean something, all of that knowledge cannot be for naught.”

Thorin too, crossed his arms, “Perhaps.”

Bard remained silent for a short while, before he final sighed. Shaking his head, he turned away back to camp. 

“Are you afraid?” Thorin said, his eyes still toward the gate. 

“Afraid?”

“The elven prince is very sick, and you care for him, no?” 

“Ah,” Bard turned back, “Yes. Yes I am.”

“How can you admit that so easily. You are a King, a king should never be afraid,” Thorin bit out more harshly than he had intended. 

Bard scratched his chin and looked up at the moon, half full. “Perhaps, but I am human and that means I feel fear. For the coming battle, for those I love, for my children new and old, for my friends. I admit I feel fear, and by doing so, I can use it. It motivates me to action, to fight with all my life to protect those I care for. Of course, I may die, but that is a small price to pay.”

Thorin turned to the human and blinked at the blunt way he spoke of his own life. “What about you Kingdom? Your family? The-Thranduil?”

“What about them?”

“You’d just leave them behind,” Thorin frowned. 

“Maybe, but I know my son will make a great King and my other children have each other. As for the elven King, well,” he shrugged and smiled. “My life is not but a drop in the ocean of his. He and Legolas may morn me for a short time, but they will not be bothered by it for long.”

Thorin’s frown deepened and he too looked to the moon. “The life of a dwarf is twice that of a Hobbit.”

Bard glanced at him curiously, “Oh?”

“Yes. Bilbo will most likely die far sooner than I, if we all survive this, that is.”

“I am sorry,” Bard said honestly. 

“It was hard enough living without Bilbo when I knew he was alive, just far, far away. Of course, I wanted to go to him, but I did not think he would want me after what I had done. I was cruel, I betrayed him and it was only after he was gone that I realized he was my one.”

“Your one?”

“Dwarves only find love once,” Thorin began, “After we meet that one person, it is almost immediate. We know as soon as we meet them, but I was a fool, as I so often am. I was arrogant, I saw myself as a king and I could not believe that a simple, small hobbit was my one. I ignored my feelings for the rest of the journey, pushing him away, judging him, criticizing him. Yet, this small hobbit stepped between me and a Warg. He fought orcs and trolls for my troop and I, and I nearly threw him off a wall.”

“Thorin, Bilbo knows how you felt. He lived so many lifetimes, how could he not. Have faith in your hobbit, believe in him. He has set out on a nobler quest than any of us could dream.” Bard looked out over the darkened land, over the scarred ground and the ugly, jutting towers. “Besides, it does not one well to dwell on the past. Learn from it, of course, but do not allow it to consume you. Our lives are too short to waste precious minutes thinking on what we could have changed in a past that cannot be changed. Even should we die tomorrow or the next day, we die together knowing it was for a cause greater than our lives. If we are successful, if Bilbo is successful, people who are not adventurers or kings or warriors can wake on that day and know they have nothing to worry about. Their lives are safe, and their families are safe, that has to be worth something.” 

“Thank you, King Bard.” 

“Of course, King Thorin.” He smiled and went back near the fire. 

Thorin’s eyes returned to the moon. 

“Faith indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I can say is that I am sorry it took so long. I will keep my promise, though, and this story will be completed. Thank you for reading.


	26. Chapter 26

Thranduil did not sleep, but he did dream. Unbidden thoughts of fear constricted his heart and mind. He saw flashes of his lover’s eyes glazed and lifeless, of his lover’s skin mottled and grey. He saw his son taking his last breath, of dying with his father’s name on his lips. He saw the world burning in a mass of fire that was quickly consumed by the dark. He remained by Legolas’s side, but he was very far away. His son’s conditioned did not get any better, but neither did it get any worse. He tossed and turned, mumbling incoherently about fire and gold.

Thranduil dare not hold his son’s hand. 

He was dreaming when his son finally awoke. 

Legolas shot up out of bed as if he were a coiled spring trap. His body jackknifing upright with a belted cry, “The Ring!”

Thrnaduil started so badly that he nearly collapsed, but he was at his son’s side in an instant. He took his son’s shoulder and tried to force him to lay back down, but the prince struggled against his father. 

“Legolas, calm. Please, you are ill, you need your rest. Calm.” But his son could not hear him. 

“The Ring! The fire! Mordor!” 

“Legolas, please-,” but he was shocked into silence at his son’s next delirious words. 

“Bilbo has made it to Mordor! Bilbo has thrown the Ring into the fire! He has saved us all!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was a really short chapter, but I thought it would be ok because the two are back to back. We are coming up on the end soon, only a few more chapters. Thank you for reading.


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